


i want to find a home (i want to share it with you)

by jessicawhitly



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Big Bang Challenge, F/M, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: A chance encounter in their apartment complex brings Hopper and his two girls fully into the orbit of their neighbors Joyce Byers and her two boys, and neither of them anticipate the spiral of events that follow.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jim "Chief" Hopper & Sara Hopper, Jim "Chief" Hopper & Sara Hopper & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Jim - Relationship, Jonathan Byers & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Joyce Byers, Jonathan Byers & Joyce Byers & Will Byers, Jonathan Byers & Joyce Byers & Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper & Sara Hopper, Joyce Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers & Sara Hopper, Joyce Byers & Will Byers, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Will Byers & Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 18
Kudos: 97
Collections: Jopper Big Bang 2019





	i want to find a home (i want to share it with you)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy I finally get to share this fic with you! I've had so much fun writing it, and I hope you all enjoy reading it! Title is from Hello My Old Heart by The Oh Hellos.
> 
> Artwork by @andcontemplation on tumblr here (https://andcontemplation.tumblr.com/post/189667068810/artwork-for-i-want-to-find-a-home-i-want-to-share)!

“What did we learn today, kid?”

“Pop-tarts don’t go in the microwave,” is the soft response, followed by a toe scuff, and Jim Hopper sunk down into a crouch, tucking his helmet under his arm.

“Especially not still in the package,” he says, and the kid nods, bowl cut falling in his eyes. “Where’s your mom?”

He’d responded to the call because it was from within his own apartment complex, and he was only a block away anyway. He recognized the young, pale kid who lived a floor below him- he was the youngest of two, close to Hopper’s own youngest daughter’s age if he had to guess. He had a mom who worked a lot, and appeared to be doing it all on her own from best he could tell- but the apartment was clearly empty at the moment.

“Work,” is the even quieter response, and Hopper frowns at the way the boy’s shoulder tense.

“You’ve got a brother, right? Will?” he asks, finally supplying the kid’s name as he remembers all three of the Byers’ names. He nods, swallowing and looking down at his socks.

“He’s at the library. There’s a camp. Mom said I’d only be by myself for a little bit,” he whispers, lip quivering, and pained understanding washes over Hopper as he realizes the constraint of a working parent.

“Will?!” he hears a woman’s panicked voice float up the stairs, and then the woman he recognizes from passing on the stairs bursts around the corner, eyes flickering over both of them before they lock on her son. “Will, honey, are you okay?”

“’M fine, Mommy,” the seven year old insists as the brunette blur falls to her knees and wraps herself around him, purse dropping to the floor in a clatter of keys. She pulls back, hands touching his cheeks and shoulders to assure herself he truly was alright before her head turns to take Hopper in.

“Mr. Hopper?” she asks, eyebrows crinkling together, and he tips his head forward somewhat awkwardly.

“Just Hopper, please,” he requests as she straightens up, pulling Will closer as he buried his face in her hip. “Will learned the valuable lesson of not microwaving poptarts in their wrappers, didn’t we bud?”

Will nods, and offers Hopper a shy smile before turning his face back into Joyce’s hip. She looks stricken, her pale complexion turning even whiter in the fluorescent lighting of the hallway.

“I…I had to leave him alone, his brother is at a photography camp for the week that he begged to go to all spring, and I have to go to work, I can’t afford not to,” the words seem to spill out of her like water, babbling and steady. “Jonathan comes home in an hour, I thought- I thought it would be okay, it’s only for two weeks, but I can’t afford a babysitter for that long, not that and camp and Jonathan never asks for _anything_ , I-”

“Joyce,” Hopper stops her with gentle hands on her shoulders, and it strikes him what a pretty name it is as he says it. She pauses, blinking, and takes a breath. “I understand. I know for a fact the super called this in because the alarm went off for a little too long and someone complained- and quite frankly, he’s an as…not a nice man.”

He corrects his language for the sake of the kid, and watches Joyce bite her lip to swallow a smile.

“Listen…I know you don’t really know me, but I have two daughters of my own- Sara and Jane. They’re both home all summer, and Sara’s babysat for a couple of other families in the building,” he offers, and Joyce’s eyes widen. “If you’re a fan of puzzles, kid, you’ll have a ball.”

Will’s eyes widen, already nodding, and Joyce shakes her head slightly.

“Oh, I can’t-” she starts, and Hopper holds his hands up.

“Think about it. We’re 4F,” he tells her and bends to ruffle Will’s hair. “No more fires, alright?”

“Okay, Mr. Hopper,” he says, offering a tiny grin, and Hopper returns it with one of his own before he sends them both a small wave and heads for the elevator.

Deciding to check on his own girls, he hits the up button, and makes his way down the hall; unlocking the door, the sound of the television hits his ears before anything else.

“Dad?” Sara’s voice is next, confused as she looks up from where she’s on the couch, a magazine spread over her lap. “It’s only 2, did you quit already?”

“No, smartass, there was a call the floor below and I figured I’d come check on you two,” he answers, and the blonde teenager scrunches her nose up, stifling a giggle. El comes skidding down the hall, curls falling into her eyes as she comes to a stop.

“Hi,” she pants, and Hopper grins, ruffling a hand through her hair affectionately.

“Hey, kid. Staying out of trouble?” he asks, and she nods before bounding over and settling beside Sara on the sofa. She flicks through the television channels, barely stopping to see what’s on, and Hopper shakes his head. “So there’s a chance one of the kids from downstairs might be spending the mornings with you two for the rest of the week.”

“Which one?” Sara asks, setting her magazine off to the side and resting her chin on the palm of her hand.

“Will Byers,” he answers, and El’s head shoots up, her lips curling upwards.

“He was in my class, he’s nice,” she supplies, and Hopper’s smile softens.

“Don’t you have a job to go back to now?” Sara lifts an eyebrow, amusement in her voice; Hopper nudges at her head, but heads for the door.

“Try not to burn the building down,” he calls over his shoulder.

“I’ll leave that to the pyromaniacs!” Sara shouts back, and Hopper smothers his snort of laughter as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

_

Hopper’s washing the dishes, the girls brushing their teeth down the hall when he hears the knocking. Drying his hands on the towel, he pulls the door open, and comes face to face with Joyce Byers wringing her hands in his doorway.

“Okay,” she says, huffing out a breath, and Hopper’s eyebrows furrow together. “Will…Will can stay here, during the day. But I won’t- won’t do it without some kind of reciprocation. I won’t take any kind of charity.”

He studies her face; the hard line of her jaw and the way she held her shoulders high, the tuck of her arms over her chest. She barely makes it mid-chest on him, but the way she carries herself gives her so much more height, and he finds himself even more intrigued by her.

“There’s gotta be some way I can…help. You said you’re doing the single parent thing too,” she continues, shifting in place. Hopper nods after a moment, clearing his throat.

“I do overnights- Thursday to Friday. I’m usually home by the time the girls are up, but-”

“They can stay with us,” Joyce interrupts him, arms dropping from over her chest to her sides, shoulders relaxing. “When I get home on Thursday they can stay with us and after you get some sleep- you can pick them back up.”

His lips curve into a smile at that, and Hopper nods once.

“Alright,” he says, and extends a hand. Joyce looks at it for a moment before she wraps her fingers around his; they’re small and cold, and Hopper holds it a little longer than necessary before they part, holding her eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Joyce.”

Something in her eyes softens, and she bites her lips as she steps back.

“Have a good night, Hopper,” she replies, pulling her sweater tighter around herself before she turns and heads back down the hall. She looks back once, just before she descends the stairs, and Hopper doesn’t know how to describe the odd warmth that permeates his chest as he shuts the apartment door.

_

“I got it!” Sara’s voice rings out when the hesitant-sounding knock sounds against their door the next morning, and she’s wearing a bright smile when she pulls the door open. “Hi! You must be Mrs. Byers. I’m Sara.”

“Hi, Sara. You can call me Joyce,” the anxiety seems to abate a little at Sara’s brightness, and Will perks up beside her when El bounds into the room from down the hall, waving.

“Hi El!” he waves back, and hugs on his mom’s work vest. “Mom, can I go in now? Please?”

Joyce sinks into a crouch, brushing her hands gently over her son’s face before leaning forward to kiss his forehead gently. “Be good today, okay? Jonathan will come get you when he’s done at the library, but that might not be until almost dinner time. I’ll be home at 7.”

“Mama, I _know_ ,” Will tells her, looking over at El again. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Okay, baby. I love you,” Joyce gives him another kiss, and Will allows it, hugging her briefly.

“Love you too. Bye!” as soon as he says the words he’s off like a shot, settling on the floor where El is already starting a puzzle.

Hopper comes down the hall just then, and offers Joyce a wave.

“Morning,” he says, and she dips her head, hand against her throat as she watches Will with wide eyes. Grabbing his keys and wallet, he shoves both in his pockets before kissing each of the girls on the top of their heads. “Stay outta trouble. Number’s on the fridge. Bought the stuff for bagel pizzas, it’s in the fridge.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Sara says, smiling up at him, before turning back to Joyce. “We’re gonna have a great day, Mrs- Joyce. I swear. Try not to worry too much.”

Joyce’s smile softens at that.

“Thank you, Sara. I don’t doubt that he’s in perfectly capable hands,” she assures the teenager, whose cheeks flush just slightly at the compliment. “Have a good day.”

“You too, Joyce,” Sara tells her, and shuts the door behind the two of them.

Joyce expects Hopper to reassure her as well that Will was going to be fine in his daughter’s hands, so when the “Want to get some coffee before work?” leaves his mouth, she blinks, taken aback.

“Uh...sure. I have time,” she answers, and follows him to the elevator, watching him press the button for the ground floor before he scrubs the same hand down his face. He hadn’t shaved, and Joyce finds herself staring at the stubble on his face before she can catch herself; she bites her lip, looking down at her shoes as she squelches down the feeling in her chest.

Hopper holds the door for her at the diner across from the apartment complex, and Joyce picks a booth in the center, sunshine spilling out across the table.

“What can I getcha, Hopper?” the waitress at the counter waves to him as he slides in across from her, and he lifts a hand.

“Two coffees, Gail,” he answers, and she nods, pulling two mugs off the counter.

“Come here often?” Joyce asks, eyebrow lifted curiously, and Hopper huffs out a laugh, shrugging one shoulder.

“Used to be my go to after my long shifts for the girls to get some breakfast, when I was newer to the double shifts,” he answers, and Joyce nods as Gail sets their mugs down. “Their pancakes are to die for, in Sara’s opinion.”

Joyce smiles at that, sipping at her coffee and sitting back slightly in the booth, feeling some of the tension from earlier disappear.

“Coffee isn’t bad,” she says, and Hopper’s lips twitch, blue eyes soft as he looks at her over the rim of his own mug. Something warm flutters in her stomach, and it has nothing to do with the temperature of the coffee.

_

“Girls, got everything packed?” Hopper calls down the hallway, arms folded over his chest as he waits for a response.

“Working on it!” is Sara’s yelled reply, El’s echo a moment later, and Hopper smothers his laughter as he shakes his head, picking up a stray magazine half under the couch and placing it on the coffee table. He’s half-heartedly folding the overflowing basket of laundry nearly overtaking the corner of the living room when both girls come down the hallway, overnight bags slung over their shoulders and pillows in their arms.

“Ready,” El tells him with a beaming grin, showcasing her newly lost front tooth, and Hopper ruffles her hair before he stands.

“Alright, let’s get a move on so I can head to the firehouse,” he shoves his wallet into his back pocket and then fishes the keys out of the dish before he shepherds the girls through the door, locking the apartment behind them. El wraps her fingers around Sara’s, swinging their joined hands happily as she skips down the hall, and the blonde teenager smiles down at her sister, nudging her gently before they head down the stairs.

“Hey girls!” Joyce grins at them as she opens the door at their knock, an excited Will nearly bouncing just behind her. “Come on in, Will’s so excited to see you again.”

Will and El are already chattering away about something as Hopper gently extracts her bag and pillow from her as they enter the apartment, Jonathan waving at Sara from his spot on the couch. She waves back, then promptly turns and gives her dad a hug, arm around his waist.

“Bye Dad. Be safe,” she murmured, and Hopper dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

“Always, kid,” he replied back softly, squeezing her tightly. El darted over, hugging his other side before tugging on Sara’s hand. “Be good, girls, alright? Don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes, Dad,” Sara said with a roll of her eyes, lips twitching fondly before she let El drag her over to Will and Jonathan, who were setting up some board game on the coffee table.

Joyce had her arms folded over her chest as she watched the group of them with a warm smile; her hair is pulled back into a ponytail that brushed the tops of her shoulders, and she’s out of the work uniform he’s usually seen her in- dressed in a white shirt with an orange hem and light jeans. He swallows the compliment, and instead pulls out the slip of paper he’d written the firehouse number on before they’d left the apartment, holding it out to her.

“Here’s the station number, just in case,” he tells her as she takes it, their fingers brushing briefly and sending warmth shooting up his arm, settling between his ribs. “I should get off around 6:30, and be back around 7, but if there’s a call it could be later.”

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t go in until 9 tomorrow,” Joyce assures him, and Hopper nods, half his mouth pulling upwards. “They’ll be fine, and we’ll see you when you’re done.”

Hopper nods, and casts another glance at the girls; they’re deeply involved in the game with the boys, Jonathan explaining the rules- including hand gestures- and his lips curl into a full smile before he heads out, something about him lighter.

It’s an easy shift, with only two calls; it’s a rare night that he even gets a few hours sleep in the barracks. His thoughts only drift to how Sara and El were doing a handful of times over the course of the hours, and to wonder how Joyce had done wrangling his girls to a decent bedtime.

 _That_ thought pulls a smile onto his face as he changes back to his street clothes, and Powell’s voice brings him from his thoughts and into the present.

“That’s a pretty big smile, there, Captain,” he says, and Hopper draws his brows together in a glare.

“Yeah, I was thinking about your mom, Powell,” he retorts, and the younger man flips him off, rolling his eyes. “Get out of here. Shift change is briefed. That kid of yours walking yet?”

“She’s trying. Took a coupla steps the other day, but Marcia’s still trying to get it on camera,” Powell responds, and Hopper grins, slinging his bag over his shoulder, shutting his locker.

“Just wait- once she starts, you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing after her,” he claps the other man on the back, and Powell lets out a laugh, opening his locker. “You and Callahan are on kitchen duty next week.”

“Yeah, I know. Get to spend my whole week keeping that man away from the stove,” Powell rolls his eyes, pulling a fresh shirt out of his locker. “Get outta here- go see those girls of yours.”

Hopper lifts a hand, allowing the locker room door to slam on his way out.

_

If he’s being honest, he expected their interactions to dwindle by the time her eldest son’s camp finishes- he’s pleasantly surprised when instead of just Will coming to spend the day with Sara and El, it’s both Will and Jonathan.

Where Will was sunshine and bright smiles, Jonathan is more withdrawn. He always had his camera with him, quietly capturing any and everything around him.

Somehow, they’d settled on a Monday night communal dinner; sometimes it was at the Byers, sometimes the Hoppers. More often than not, it meant both Joyce and Hopper cooking in whatever respective kitchen they were in while the kids entertained themselves. It was nice; it was easy, shockingly, to have someone else in his space and his home and not feel like she was intruding.

“Do you get to drive every firetruck?” Will asks, pushing his peas around his plate and eyes wide with curiosity as he bombards Hopper with questions about his work. It’s been three weeks of regular dinners, and this evening they’re at the Byers, settled around the dinner table.

“We only have two trucks at our station, but I have driven both,” Hopper answers, and Will’s eyes widen impossibly, lips parted in an ‘O’ of awe. “You know, I could show you the truck sometime.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” Jonathan’s voice is quiet, but his arms are folded tightly over his chest, head ducked slightly. A slight frown mars Hopper’s mouth, and he catches Joyce’s gaze over the table, finding her mouth drawn in a tight line and tension in her shoulders.

“That’s enough, Jonathan. We’re at the dinner table,” Joyce arches an eyebrow at her son, her voice tight, and Jonathan sulks further, sinking back into his chair.

The rest of the meal is full of the sound of clinking forks and plates; Hopper helps Joyce gather the dishes, though she gently shoos him off when he offers to help. There’s still a sort of anxious fluttering to her movements; a nervousness he can’t understand, and he suddenly feels strangely out of place.

The girls had asked to spend the night, so Hopper kisses them both goodnight and murmurs a quiet goodbye to Joyce before slipping out her door, heading back up to his apartment.

It’s almost too quiet, now, without the girls- he cleans up, putting away books and crayons and refolding blankets. He’s considering settling in to whatever’s on television when there’s a knock on the door, and he heads for it, frowning.

“Joyce? Is everything okay?” he asks when he pulls it open to find the brunette standing at the threshold, wringing her hands.

“Oh, yes- the kids are fine. I just...can I come in?” she asks, face pinched as she stumbled over her words and Hopper nodded, stepping aside to allow her in.

“You have to understand something about Jonathan,” Joyce starts, already fiddling with her fingers as she sits herself in one of his kitchen chairs. Hopper lights a cigarette, watching her carefully as he seats himself across from her and hands it to her. She takes a drag, exhaling a line of smoke before she rubs a hand across the bridge of her nose.

“Their dad…isn’t a great guy,” Joyce tries to pass the words off with a hint of a laugh, but the sound is strained; he watches as she tugs on the ends of her sleeves, like an impulse to cover bruises that are no longer there. “A high school sweetheart that didn’t stay sweet, you could say.”

She took another drag of the cigarette, coughing slightly before she picked the tobacco off her lip and handed it back to him, shaking her head fondly.

“We’ve been divorced since Will was small, but Lonnie likes to forget that. He was never a great dad- Will was early, and it lead to him being sick a lot. Lonnie…wasn’t very kind about it,” Joyce ducks her head, plucking at a loose thread in her sleeve. “Especially when he drank. Called him clingy when he was being generous; used some less gentle words when the liquor was darker. I kicked him out when I realized he’d started using Jonathan’s school clothes money for booze.”

Hopper feels anger simmer in the description of Joyce’s ex, but works hard to keep his face open and neutral as he listens. Something sharp pinches in his chest; the odd urge to protect her, even though she clearly no longer needed it. It’s an instinct he can’t quite suppress, so he allows it to bubble up in his chest and settle, finding space within his ribs and wrapping around his organs. A new feeling to contend with and acknowledge.

“My dad helped for a while, but he died when Will was still a baby, and my mom hasn’t been around since I was a kid,” Joyce continues, shrugging one shoulder. “And, for a while, Jonathan…Jonathan really thought Lonnie meant it when he said he’d come see him on the weekends. That they’d go to the park, or a baseball game.”

Something sad flashes in Joyce’s eyes, and Hopper fights the urge to cover her fingers with his own.

“I think it was missing his seventh birthday that put the last nail in that relationship’s coffin,” Joyce’s half-smile is wry, and she heaves out a soft sigh. “Underneath that hard exterior my son has a soft heart, and he’s too used to the people he’s trusted leaving him- especially the men in his life. So don’t take it personally if he’s a little…rough around the edges with you, for a little while. He’s just waiting for you to leave.”

Hopper’s shoulders softened, and he quirked up one side of his mouth.

“Guess I just have to prove his theory wrong, huh?” his voice is soft, and Joyce’s smile grows slowly until it lights up her whole face, her nose crinkling.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, an emotion he’s unable to put a name to but that thrums something deep in his chest thick in her throat. “I guess you will.”

_

“How those kids understand all those science words, I’ll never understand,” he lifts an eyebrow as Joyce shuts the apartment door behind her, and pulls two beers out of his fridge instead of just the one he’d been reaching for.

“What’d they pick tonight?” he asks, amused, and she shrugs.

“Something about a witch? A mountain? I stopped listening when Will said alien children,” she confesses, and Hopper hides a snort as he hands her the now-open beer. “I just need an escape from the noise for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It was actually a little too quiet in here,” he tells her, and the smile she sends him is soft in understanding.

Her gaze drifts around the room, and then catches on the framed photo on the wall- one of the few pictures of their family of four before Diane had gotten too sick for pictures and family outings and the things they were supposed to do for the rest of their lives.

“Is that your wife?” she asks, and Hopper realizes that while he knows about her past, and her life- he hasn’t returned the favor. Hasn’t really had the opportunity before now, when he thinks about it, so he goes quiet for another moment to collect his thoughts, and Joyce looks like she’s starting to regret asking the question in the first place when he finally finds his voice.

“I met Diane after I got back from my second tour in Vietnam,” Joyce blinks, and sets her beer aside, sitting up. Something warm settles in Hopper’s chest at the way she gives him her full attention, and he picks at the peeling label of his own beer, self-conscious. “I was lost, for awhile- Hawkins, Indiana was a small town, and it was hard to come back to a place where everyone knew you after being...over _there._ ”

Joyce makes a noise of sympathy, and Hopper blows out a breath.

“My dad had been police chief since I was a kid, and after he died, I guess it just...made sense to pick the mantle up. So I took the easy as shit Hawkins test and got on the force through more than a bit of nepotism,” a laugh that’s more a snort blows hard out of his nose, and he catches the way Joyce’s lips twitch as she watches him speak. “It worked for awhile, and after about a year Diane blew into town like this...blonde little hurricane. Didn’t take my shit, and I liked that. She was a teacher, and the high school only needed her for a year.”

Fondness laces through his voice as the memories hit, and nostalgia fills his chest.

“So when the year was up, and I was more in love with her than I’d ever been with anyone, I followed her back here to New York. The transfer was easy, and I took a beat cop job in a relatively quiet district while Diane taught at a private school in the city,” he continues after taking another pull from his beer. “We got married pretty quietly- my parents were both dead and all she had left was her mom, so we did the city hall thing to save money. And because we were already pregnant with Sara, so Diane didn’t want some big, flashy wedding between bouts of morning sickness.”

Joyce lifts her drink to that, taking a sip, and Hopper’s lips quirk against his will at the motion.

“Things were good, for a long time. But after El, Diane didn’t...bounce back, the way she had after Sara. She was constantly tired, and we both knew it was more than just the exhaustion of two kids instead of one,” Hopper’s voice quieted, eyes trained on the lip of his bottle. “She got the leukemia diagnosis three weeks after Sara’s eighth birthday.”

He appreciates that Joyce doesn’t try to apologize, or offer condolences like other women have in the past when he’s gotten far enough to lay this story at their feet; all she does is lean forward enough to wrap her fingers around his wrist and squeeze gently. He lifts his eyes up to hers, and finds an impossible warmth in them that almost burns- it takes longer than he’d like to admit to look away.

“It seemed like after the diagnosis she just got really sick, really fast. El wasn’t even a year old yet, and Sara was eight- she couldn’t understand what was going on beyond the fact that her mom was in the hospital all the time,” Hopper rubs a hand down his face, letting out a sigh. “Diane got better for a little while, around the time El was about eighteen months, but it was short-lived. When it came back, it came back hard.”

Joyce’s fingers slide from his wrist to cover his hand, and the touch is soft; he welcomes it as he plunges forward with the story.

“We both knew the fight wasn’t worth it this time around, so Diane didn’t do any chemo or radiation. She wanted to spend time with the girls and actually be with them,” he can’t help the thickness that collects in this throat, hoarsening his voice. Joyce’s grip on his fingers tightens silently. “She died before El was even two. I know she doesn’t have any real memories of her mom, and I think it’s hard for Sara to really remember what she was like before she was sick. And she just...she was _good._ Put up with all my shit- made me want to be a better person.”

Unbidden, a tear slips from the corner of his eyes and trails down his cheek; before it can disappear into his beard, Joyce’s fingers are soft against his skin, and she brushes the droplet away.

“It sounds like she was a wonderful person, Hop. I’m sorry she couldn’t be around longer. I would have liked to have gotten to meet her,” there’s a quiet earnesty to her words that makes him genuinely believe her, and Hopper can’t help but think that Diane would have gotten along well with Joyce. Especially for the way she treated their girls.

“You woulda liked her,” he replies, and her lips turn up into a smile as she slides her fingers down slightly until she can twine them with his, squeezing lightly.

“So when did you become a firefighter?” she asks once they both sit back, beers back in their hands and the air lighter around them.

“After Diane’s death, I took a pretty hard look at my life and my career- I had two kids to support, and being a cop’s not exactly a 9 to 5 with great benefits and no risk factor,” he starts, and Joyce lifts an eyebrow. He holds up a hand, unable to help the slight smirk his face falls into. “Before you give me that look, let me finish.”

Joyce takes another swig of her beer, trying to hide her smile, but there’s an attractive flush to her cheeks that Hopper can’t help but linger on for a moment, distracted, before he catches himself and continues.

“With just three of us, we downsized from the townhouse we were in- to here, obviously,” Hopper gestures to the apartment around them, setting his now-empty beer down on the table. “I knew the fire chief for this district, and he had some openings- and honestly, going from being a cop to a fireman wasn’t that much of a stretch. It’s better hours, less people shooting at you, and I work with a far better crew of guys now than I did on the force.”

Joyce hums at that, finishing her own beer and setting the empty bottle down next to his.

“You know, I worked the front desk for the Transportation Department, for a few years,” Joyce tells him, and Hopper looks up, eyebrows creasing. “After Jonathan was born but before Will. I even- and you can’t laugh at me when I tell you this, because looking back I know this is a ridiculous, insane idea- but before I got pregnant with Will I even toyed with the idea of taking the test to get into the police academy.”

Joyce snorts, stubbing out the cigarette they’d left lingering in the ashtray during their conversation and shaking her head.

“But then when Will was born he was sick so much they couldn’t keep him at the daycare like they had with Jonathan, and Lonnie had started disappearing more and more frequently, so I had to quit anyway,” a wistful look enters her expression, and she shrugs one shoulder. “Would have been funny though, wouldn’t it? If we’d ended up working together, in another world? Chief Hopper and Detective Byers?”

Hopper chuckles at that.

“I think we would have made a pretty good team,” he tells her, and her fingers are warm against his as she squeezes gently. “The girls are pretty over the whole “dad’s a firefighter” thing at this point, but do you think the boys would have any interest in a tour of the firehouse? Despite Sara’s sarcasm, it is still pretty cool.”

“I think if Jonathan’s allowed to bring his camera, he’ll think anywhere is cool,” Joyce confesses, and Hopper’s grin broadens. “And Will’s quite frankly smitten with you, so I think he’d love to see where you work.”

“Why not this weekend? The guys want to do a family cookout thing, so the place might actually look clean for once and not like a frat house for men in their thirties and forties,” Hopper lets out a laugh, and Joyce’s nose crinkles in amusement before she nods.

“Yeah, Hop, that sounds nice. The girls will be there too?” she asks, and he nods, leaning back in his seat and scratching at his stomach.

“Thing starts at 1 on Saturday- we’ll knock around 12:45?” he suggests, and Joyce nods, pushing herself into a standing position and bringing both of their bottles over to the sink to rinse them out before tossing them in the recycling bin.

“I should probably go check that the kids aren’t killing each other,” she says, but she lingers in the center of the room, eyes soft as they stay on him, her head tilted ever so slightly to the left. “You gonna be okay here alone tonight? Wanna crash on the couch?”

His heart leaps to his throat suddenly, and the enormity of what he’s told Joyce hits him full force. They’ve crossed another line in their friendship; inched another step closer to something deeper, something bigger- towards what, he doesn’t quite know, but it’s something, and the new territory is suddenly overwhelming.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, though,” he keeps his tone level, offering her a half-smile to ease the suddenly scrunch of her shoulders at his silence. “I’ll come get the girls at 8 tomorrow?”

“I’ll send them up before I leave for work, don’t worry about it,” she waves him off, and passes her hand along his shoulder as she makes her way to the door. “Have a good rest of your night, Hopper.”

The door closes with a gentle click behind her, leaving Hopper in his apartment with only his thoughts for company.

_

He should be focused on something other than Joyce in a cobalt blue sundress, her hair gathered in a loose ponytail and dangling silver earrings that nearly touch her shoulders. But when she opens the door and beams at the three of them, telling them they were almost ready and to come in and take a seat while she finished her makeup, Hopper had almost definitely felt his heart skip a beat.

She’d emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later with lips smeared bright red, drawing his gaze in a way he can’t really fight, and he finds himself swallowing hard and standing up a little straighter.

“Boys! Come on, I know you both don’t take that long to get ready!” she calls down the hall, sliding her feet into a pair of sandals and cranking the fan in the living room up in an attempt to cool the stifling apartment. August had brought humidity and rising temperatures to the city, and nearly every apartment in their complex seemed to simply trap the heat and not expel it.

Will and Jonathan finally come down the hall, and Will is already jumping with excitement.

“We get to see firetrucks today!” he exclaims, jamming his feet into his sneakers and barely trying them in his excitement. Joyce sinks down, untangling the laces and retying them, smiling up at him.

“There’s a chance you might even get to turn the sirens on,” Hopper tells him, and Will’s eyes go wide they’re nearly all white.

“The _sirens?_ ” he gasps, standing up and coming over to tug on Hopper’s hand. “The lights, too?”

“I got you a VIP pass, my friend,” Hopper replies, letting out an ‘oof’ when Will crashed into him for a hug. “Ready to get this show on the road?”

The group nods, and everyone piles into Hopper’s truck, the kids all squeezed together in the back and Joyce on the front bench seat with Hopper. She fiddles with the radio, cranking it when she finds a song she likes, and the air whips through the open windows.

Outside the firehouse is milling with people, and as soon as Hopper parks on the street, the kids are piling out of the car.

“Dad, can I get my face painted?” 

“Oh Mama me too?”

El and Will turn to their parents simultaneously, and Hopper rumbles out a laugh as he exchanges amused glances with Joyce.

“I don’t see why not,” she answers, and Hopper nods.

“Let me introduce you to some of the guys first.”

He leads them into the firehouse, where most of the guys from his shift crew are talking, gathered around the Chief. Powell catches sight of him first, lifting a hand in greeting.

“Nice to see you out here, Captain,” Chief LaVorgna shakes his hand, an uncustomary smile on the usually-sour fire chief’s face. “This your family?”

“These are my girls, Sara and El,” Hopper motions to them, and they each give a small wave. “And this is my neighbor, Joyce, and her boys Jonathan and Will. Will’s real excited to see the trucks up close.”

Joyce offers a tiny wave, nose crinkling slightly as she smiled, and both Will and Jonathan gave nods in the men’s direction. One of the lieutenants, Callahan, squats until he’s level with Will, a smile on his face.

“Looking to be a firefighter yourself one day, little man?” he asks, and Will shrugs, though his eyes are bright as he looks around Callahan at the truck a few feet behind him.

“It’s so big,” he says, and Joyce brushes a hand over his head, smoothing his hair out of his face.

“Why do you think they wanted Hopper to be a firefighter? He’s tall enough,” there’s teasing in her voice as she looks back at Hopper, and he rolls his eyes in amusement, though that persistent warmth he’d come to find was synonymous with being around Joyce was back.

“It’s nice to meet you folks, thanks for coming out. There’s plenty of food, so don’t be shy,” LaVorgna says, and claps Hopper’s shoulder. “Stop by my office on Monday. Some things to discuss.”

Hopper nods, eyebrows furrowing slightly, then shrugs and turns to the group.

“Food first, or face painting?”

“Face painting!” is the unanimous decision, with now both Sara and Jonathan deciding to participate, so they leave the kids at the table while they look for some drinks.

“So, is the firehouse tour only open to the boys, or can you show me around too?” Joyce asks once they each have a plastic cup full of lemonade. She looks at him over the top of her cup, pressed against her bottom lip, and Hopper swallows before he nods.

“Can’t promise to be as good of a tour guide as Flo will be for the kids, but I can try,” he says, and leads Joyce further into the firehouse, opening the side door to her. “These are the offices; the Chief’s office is in the corner, and against the wall are the offices for the captains and lieutenants.”

“And you’re a captain, right? So which one’s yours?” she asks, ponytail swinging as she tilts her head up to look at him. The humidity has frizzed her hair slightly; tendrils frame her face, and her eyes are bright and warm.

“Middle one,” he answers, and without another word Joyce makes her way towards it, twisting the doorknob and stepping inside.

It’s a relatively small space, and while he spent a decent amount of time in it during his day shifts, he hadn’t done much with it in the way of decorating. A Jim Croce poster hung on one wall, and a few pieces of artwork from the girls over the years were taped to the back window. On the desk was a framed picture of Sara and El from the previous Christmas, and Joyce picks the silver frame up, smiling.

“They’re adorable,” she tells him, looking up at him with a soft expression on her face. A few strands of hair fall into her eyes, and before he can even think he’s lifting a hand up to gently move them away, tucking them behind her ear.

Her skin is soft, and he feels the way her breathing pauses at the touch of his fingers against her; his stomach bottoms out, and he finds his hand lingering against the hinge of her jaw. She’s so tiny compared to him, he realizes for the millionth time as he stares down at her, eyes searching her face. Crimson lips part, but before she can speak the sound of the door slamming in the main office space pulls them apart, Hopper’s hand dropping back to his side.

“We should go check on the kids,” she whispers, voice hoarse, and Hopper straightens up, clearing his throat as he nods. He steps back and opens the door, holding it for her.

“After you,” he murmurs, and Joyce looks at him with an expression he can’t quite read before she nods, leaving the office and whatever moment they’d almost had behind.

_

Will and El are both sound asleep on the drive home; the night had gone past bedtime with fireworks and a makeshift campfire for s’mores, and both kids were out like a light nearly the instant Hopper pulled the truck away from the curb. Sara and Jonathan weren’t fairing much better, fighting a losing battle with sleep, and Hopper nudges Joyce when he pulls into his parking spot outside the apartment complex to show her all four of the kids cuddled together in the backseat.

Jonathan’s camera is in her hands, and carefully, she snaps a picture of them all. Her smile is soft when she looks back up at him.

“Thank you, for today. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the boys so excited about something,” she murmurs, and Hopper pulls up the corner of his mouth.

“Jonathan even told me he was having a good time at one point, so I think today was a success,” he tells her, and Joyce grins as she looks back at her eldest.

“It’ll just take time. I told you. And it seems like you and your girls are a pretty sure thing,” there’s a sparkle in her eyes, and Hopper allows his hand to cover hers on the cracked leather of the front seat. Joyce tenses slightly before she allows her fingers to lock with his briefly, expression unreadable but unguarded.

“I think we can rouse the older kids, but I’ll carry Will and El up,” he says when they part, and Joyce starts to protest. “Joyce, the kid is maybe 80 pounds soaking weight, and El’s the same. I lift more at work, I’ll be fine.”

“It’s your back’s funeral,” is all she says, and then gets out of the truck and opens the back door, shaking Jonathan slightly. “Come on baby, we’re home. Time to get up so we can go upstairs.”

The twelve year old groans, but opens bleary eyes and sits up. Sara is in a similar state on the other side, and they lean against each other once they’re out of the car, yawning. Hopper scoops El up first, settling her against one shoulder before doing the same with Will on the opposite side. Joyce shuts the car doors, and fishes her keys out of her purse, getting them into the building and holding the door for Hopper.

“I can take him now,” Joyce says once they’re inside the Byers apartment, and Hopper carefully transfers her sleeping son to her; Will is nearly half her size, but she merely adjusts him higher on her hip and rubs his back when he starts to stir. “Breakfast here tomorrow?”

“We’ll be there. Goodnight, Joyce,” he says, Sara echoing the statement sleepily from beside him.

“She’s so pretty, Daddy,” his eldest daughter says as he unlocks their front door, following behind her. “Don’t you think so?”

“Who?” he asks, trying to relock the door while El squirms slightly in his arms, waking slightly in the lighting of the apartment.

“Joyce. Duh,” Sara says around a yawn, stretching her arms up towards the ceiling. “I think you agree with me. You kept staring at her all day today.”

“I think it’s definitely past someone’s bedtime,” is all he replies with, arching an eyebrow, and Sara merely shrugs, yawning again. “C’mon. Bedtime.”

Sara trudges down the hall with Hopper following behind her; Sara goes to brush her teeth while Hopper gets El dressed in pajamas, smoothing her hair out of her face as she snuggles under the covers, arms around her koala bear. He presses his lips to her hair before he shuts the door quietly, and stops by Sara’s room, where she’s in a similar state.

“Good day?” he asks, and she nods, smiling at him.

“Good day,” she answers, then blows him a kiss. “Night Dad.”

“Night, sweetheart,” he replies, shutting the door quietly and heading for his own bed.

If thoughts of a certain blue sundress invaded his dreams, he pushed them off as nothing the next morning.

_

Joyce looks up from her book when she notices the presence lingering in her doorway, and finds Sara hesitating at the threshold, a brush clutched tightly in her fingers.

“Hey sweetie. What’s up?” she asks, marking her place and setting the book on the bedside table, sitting up slightly.

“Could...could you maybe braid my hair?” the request is soft and hesitant, and Joyce blinks before setting her book down and beckoning the girl forward with a smile.

“Of course I can, sweetheart, come here.”

Sara settles herself in the vee of Joyce’s legs, and Joyce begins to card her hands through the cascade of blonde hair before her, attempting to section it off before she brushed it. Sara practically purred at the touch, melting under the gentleness of Joyce’s hands, and was nearly backing into Joyce’s lap when the brunette picked up the brush to start combing through the thin strands.

“Did your mom used to braid your hair?” she finally asked after long minutes of silence as she worked the brush through Sara’s hair, taming the flyaways of each section. The teenager nodded, giving a soft sigh.

“When it got long enough, it used to be the only way I wanted to wear my hair,” she replies, and Joyce smiled. “It made me feel like a fairy elf princess. Mom did it every single morning for me. But then she got sick, and the medicine they gave her hurt her hands too much to hold the brush.”

Sara got quiet, and Joyce began to braid the sections together as she let the girl find her voice once more.

“I cut all my hair off when Mom lost hers,” she confesses quietly, and Joyce squeezes her upper arm gently, letting her know she’s listening. “I didn’t think it was fair, for me to have all of mine when she had none.”

“And after she died, Dad had _no_ idea about hair. I mean, El walked around with a practical bowl cut until she was nearly 6, poor kid,” Sara continues, and Joyce swallows a snort. Sara shifts, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Will still _has_ a bowl cut, Joyce.”

“Will is adorable!” Joyce replies defensively, and Sara merely lifts an eyebrow. “I thought you were telling me a story, not attacking my son’s haircut.”

“I just...like that there’s someone in my life that can do my hair again. That’s all,” Sara says, facing forward again, and Joyce catches the faint color to Sara’s cheeks out of the corner of her eye. She bites her lip, securing the end of Sara’s braid with a tie before she settles it over her shoulder, lightly batting the younger girl in the face with the end playfully.

“I’m always around,” she reminds Sara lightly, but turns her to face her fully, squeezing the rounds of both of her shoulders in her palms. “For whatever. A cup of tea. To braid your hair. A bowl cut.”

Sara rolls her eyes at that, laughing, but leans in and rests her head on Joyce’s shoulder for a moment.

“Thanks,” is all she says, but Joyce knows her meaning has hit home with the teenager.

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

_

School starts without much fuss, and their routine doesn’t change much; Will and El share a teacher again, and Sara and Jonathan ride the same bus to the junior high school in the morning, easing some worry for both Joyce and Hopper.

Joyce picks up a few more shifts as September fades into October, the holidays growing closer, and the boys start to spend even more time at their apartment. It was common for Hopper to come home from work to all four of them doing homework in the living room, and the domesticity of it is comforting in a way he hasn’t felt in years.

“Come on, you must at least want a cake, right?” Hopper walks into the apartment after a long shift to Sara’s question, directed at Jonathan, whose attention was focused on the textbook in front of him.

“I don’t like my birthday,” he shrugs, and Hopper frowns, placing his keys in the dish. “I just want to get Mom something nice for hers this year. She’s been working a lot.”

“What’s this about birthdays?” Hopper asks, hanging his coat up before sinking into the armchair, wincing when a muscle in his back pinched.

“Jonathan’s birthday is next Friday, and he doesn’t want to do anything,” Sara answers, to which Jonathan shot her a look.

“Mom’s birthday is next Saturday and I’d just rather we do something for her,” he shrugs again, and Hopper sits forward, elbows pressing into his knees.

“No reason we can’t do both, kid,” he tells Jonathan, who tilts his head curiously. “Doesn’t have to be an either/or scenario. We can do something you like on Friday, and then take your mom out to dinner on Saturday. Sound good?”

Jonathan’s shoulders dropped as he nodded, a relieved-looking smile crossing his face.

“So, what does your mom want for her birthday?” Sara asked, and Will sat up to answer.

“Mommy says she needs a new iron!” he says, and Hopper sent him a smile.

“I think we can work with that.”

_

A week later, they spent Friday evening exploring the Met and all its photography exhibits and then eating pizza to celebrate Jonathan turning 13. As they’d parted ways at the end of the night, Hopper had simply told Joyce and the boys to be ready for dinner at 5 the next night, causing Joyce’s eyebrows to draw together in confusion.

On Saturday, Hopper and the girls pick Joyce and the boys up, and Hopper drives them a little ways into the city, parking outside an Italian restaurant.

“You got a reservation here?” Joyce asks, an awed look on her face. “I thought this was one of the busiest new places!”

“I may have pulled some strings,” Hopper shrugs, turning the truck off. “It is your birthday, after all.”

When he looks over at her, Joyce has her bottom lip caught between her teeth, an unreadable expression brightening her eyes. Before she can speak, El pokes her head over the seat and taps on Hopper’s head.

“Can we eat now please?”

They end up in a booth, Joyce and her boys on one side, and Hopper and the girls on the other. The kids distract themselves with playing tic-tac-toe and hangman on napkins while Joyce tells Hopper stories about her customer encounters at work. By the time their meals arrive Joyce is pink-cheeked and tipsy off the wine, and Hopper finds himself unable to look away from her.

“You have a beautiful family,” an elderly woman pauses as she passes their table to lean over and tell them, patting Hopper’s shoulder with a knotted hand and giving the group of them a warm smile. “Four’s a good number. You’ll have fun once they can all drive.”

She winks, and then leans closer, voice dropping into a stage whisper.

“And your wife is quite the looker, if I do say so myself!”

Before Hopper can correct her she’s toddering off, rejoining a man who he assumes is her husband at the door as they exit the restaurant, arms linked. He turns back to the table to find Joyce watching him in amusement, one of his fries in her hand.

“I mean, we’re married, right? What’s yours is mine? _Husband?_ ” there’s heavy teasing in her voice, lips curled into a smirk that warms something low in his gut. It paints a pretty picture that his mind can’t help but latch onto; a life entwined fully with Joyce’s. Coming home every day to her and their kids, and not just shared Friday mornings and the occasional weekend activities.

He clears his throat when he realizes Joyce is staring at him, shifting slightly in his seat.

“Does that mean you’re gonna start doing my laundry?” he manages to ask, relaxing slightly when Joyce lets out a laugh, shaking her head fondly.

“In your dreams, Hop.”

_

“Hey, Hop. Do you...have a minute?” Hopper looks up at Jonathan’s hesitant question, and sets aside the budget report he’s looking through to give the kid his full attention.

“Save me from this financial headache, kid, please,” he says, pulling a small smile from the teenager.

“I...have to do a project for school. About someone’s job,” Jonathan starts, and Hopper’s eyebrows lift in interest. “I was kinda hoping I could write about you, and the firehouse.”

“I mean, I’m honored, but don’t you want to write about your mom?” he asks, and Jonathan shrugs.

“I wrote about her last year, and...her job is boring,” he answers. “Plus I need pictures for this one, and firetrucks are way more fun to photograph than a department store. I already asked her if it was okay, and she said she thought it was a good idea.”

“Well, can’t argue with the boss,” Hopper says, pulling a grin from Jonathan. “I think Saturday would be a good day for you to maybe spend the day with me at the firehouse- you could take some pictures, maybe come out on a tame call if we get one? How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect. Thanks Hop,” Jonathan says, and warmth fills Hopper’s chest at the smile he gives him.

When Saturday rolls around, the Byers are knocking on their door bright and early, Jonathan nearly bouncing with uncharacteristic excitement.

“Today is all he’s been able to talk about,” Joyce tells him as Hopper lets them into the apartment, Will climbing up onto the couch next to El and settling in to whatever cartoon she has on. “He hasn’t been this excited about something in a while.”

“I’ve got some good stuff for him to photograph lined up, and we have a routine fire hydrant inspection to do over on Wescott which should get him some good pictures,” Hopper tells her, and Joyce’s face is indescribably soft as she looks up at him, laying a hand on his arm.

“You didn’t have to go to any trouble. But thank you,” she murmurs, lifting onto her toes to press her lips to his cheek. Warmth floods his system, and he feels himself blush despite himself.

“The house is excited- they love showing kids around,” he shrugs a shoulder, and Joyce bites her lower lip- clearly trying not to smile. “The girls haven’t eaten yet, but I got donuts on my way home last night.”

“Donuts!” El cries, clapping her hands excitedly, Will joining in after a moment.

“Oh, this sugar rush will be fun,” Joyce teases, and Hopper snorts in response. She kneels in front of Jonathan, fixing the buttons on his shirt unnecessarily before brushing the hair from his eyes. “Have fun today, sweetie, and listen to whatever Hopper says, okay?”

Jonathan nods, bright eyes lifting to look at Hopper expectantly.

“Ready, kid?”

_

Jonathan sticks closer to Hopper’s side as they enter the firehouse, a touch of shyness leaking out now that they were out of the apartment complex and around people he didn’t know.

“It’s our resident recruit for the day!” Callahan’s voice echoes in the garage as he looks up from where he’s cleaning one of the engine’s wheels, a grin on his face. Jonathan’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the familiar face, and he waves. “We’re gonna have so much fun today you won’t wanna go home, Jonathan.”

Hopper rolls his eyes, shoving at Callahan’s head lightly as they passed.

“I know Flo wanted to see us first, so we’ll drop your stuff in my office rather than the locker room,” he tells Jonathan, who nods and takes his camera out of the case while they walk, hanging the strap around his neck so it dangled against his chest.

The chief’s secretary was waiting for them, a kind smile on her face as she got up from her desk.

“This is for you,” Flo tells Jonathan, giving him a gold plastic fireman’s badge to pin to his shirt; the teenager’s eyes widened in excitement as Hopper helped him pin it straight. “And why don’t I take a picture of the two of you to start the day off?”

Hopper looks at Jonathan, waiting for his answer- the boy doesn’t hesitate to hand Flo the camera, coming over to Hopper’s side and grinning. Hopper’s own lips curled into a smile, and he wrapped an arm around Jonathan’s shoulders as Flo snapped a picture of them together.

“So what’s first?” Jonathan asks once his things are put away and he had his camera in his hands.

“Well, we can help the guys finish cleaning the trucks,” Hopper starts as they walk back towards the garage. “Then I’ll show you the equipment room- there’s some good stuff to take pictures of in there.”

Jonathan is so eager about _everything_ \- it’s a side of him Hopper hasn’t seen before, more used to it from Will, but he accommodates easily, answering all of his questions and giving him as many details as he could. Everything gets scrawled in a little red notebook he keeps in his pocket, and he snaps endless pictures

The guys order pizza and Jonathan listens intently to their- at Hopper’s orders- tame stories about fires they’ve put out, cats they’ve pulled out of trees, and other firehouses they’ve worked at. Jonathan eats every story up, his eyes growing wider and wider in awe, and Hopper watches with a grin playing around his mouth.

“Sorry we didn’t get a call today, kid,” Hopper says on the way home, and Jonathan shakes his head, looking up from his notebook scribblings.

“No, it was so cool! I’m definitely going to have the best project,” he grins, Hopper mirroring the expression. “Thanks for taking me.”

“Hey, you were a hit. Had nothing to do with me,” Hopper replies, and Jonathan ducks his head, cheeks turning pink. “Glad you wanted to spend the day with me, Jonathan. I really enjoyed it.”

Jonathan looked back up at him, giving Hopper a small, genuine smile.

“Me too, Hop. Maybe I could come again?” he asks hesitantly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Hopper pauses, taken aback, then allows a slow smile to overtake his face.

“Yeah, kid. I think that can be arranged.”

_

When Hopper wakes on the morning of December 10th, he feels the familiar heaviness the day brings settle over him like a worn, tattered quilt. Soon, the sound of footsteps comes down the hall, and both Sara and El appear in the doorway; at his nod, they climb into bed with him, El under his chin and Sara curled close behind her.

“Can we bring Mom daisies this year?” Sara asks quietly, breaking the silence of the room, and Hopper lifts a hand to stroke over her hair as he nods.

“I think she’d like that. She loved daisies,” he answers, and Sara’s lips twitch slightly before she settles in closer, arm around her little sister.

He’s cleaning the breakfast dishes a little while later when the phone rings, and at Joyce’s bright and cheery voice, it hits him that she won’t know why this isn’t a normal Saturday for the Hopper family.

“Hey Hop! The boys and I were wondering if you and the girls wanted to see a movie today. The dollar theater has some new films, according to Jonathan,” she speaks before he can even greet her, and Hopper can practically hear the way she smiles at her eldest son.

“Today’s...not a great day, actually,” he says, looking down the hall towards the direction of his daughters’ rooms.

“Oh, okay,” Joyce responds, and he can hear the confused hurt that she tries to hide in her voice. The weight in his chest presses down harder, and he finds himself speaking before he even fully realizes what he’s saying.

“It’s the anniversary of Diane’s death today. The girls and I are going to her grave,” falls out of his mouth, and there’s a soft little inhale on the other end.

“Oh,” she replies simply. A pause, and then: “Would you and the girls like some company?”

Something hot and molten fizzles in his chest, and he swallows hard before he answers, shutting his eyes as he tilts his face towards the ceiling.

“Yeah,” he answers, voice slightly hoarse as it pushes through the rawness in his throat. “Yeah, I think we would.”

Joyce and the boys arrive half an hour later, and something feels inexplicably... _lighter_ , with her there. It’s not an easy day- it’s never been an easy day, not for the last five years, but Sara and El both fall into the brunette’s arms the moment she’s through the door, crowding into space she freely gives them, and there’s a warmth in his chest that hasn’t been there in previous years.

Once the girls have released her, Joyce makes her way over to him; she doesn’t say anything, just lifts one hand to touch his scruff-covered cheek, brushing her thumb along the breadth of it before she dropped her hand to his bicep, squeezing gently. His throat clogs up, and he covers the hand on his arm with his own, allowing her warmth to permeate the sleeve of his shirt.

They stop to get flowers; Sara picks daisies, and El picks four yellow roses. The drive is quiet; Joyce sits in the back, El and Will on one side, Jonathan on the other, while Sara sits up front with Hopper, the flowers in her hands.

It’s snowing faintly by the time they arrive, and El slips one hand into Joyce’s, the other into her father’s as they walk. Hopper guides them from memory, and after a minute of walking they reach the simple white granite headstone.

Hopper kneels, brushing snow and dirt away from the letters; Sara moves to help him, and El buries her face in Joyce’s waist, watching them. Joyce strokes a hand over her head, holding her close, while Will stuck close to her other side with Jonathan holding his brother’s hand.

He’d never been big on talking to the grave; it hadn’t felt natural, so he simply cleaned the grave and helped the girls set the flowers in the stand. A few years ago Sara had started updating Diane on things whenever they came; what was happening in school, new words El had learned, what he was doing at the fire station.

This year is no different; Sara brushes her mitten-covered hand over the headstone, and offers the stone a small smile.

“Hey Mom,” she murmurs, rubbing at a particularly tough spot of dirt with her thumb. “Cold today, huh?”

She works while she talks, and Hopper sits back on his heels, just watching her with a bittersweet ache in his chest.

“We brought some new friends this year- Joyce, and Will and Jonathan,” she says, and Hopper catches the affectionate twitch of Joyce’s lips out of the corner of his eye. “I know you would have liked them a lot, Mom.”

Sara looks back at the four of them, smiling, before she leans closer to the tombstone, whispering conspiratorially. “I know we sure do.”

Hopper tugged her closer, pressing his lips to the top of her head. El pulled on Joyce’s hand, and at Hopper’s nod of assurance, she moved forward with the brunette, sinking down into a crouch between Sara and El, letting both girls lean against her.

“I do like them an awful lot,” Joyce murmurs, catching Hopper’s eye and offering him a small, soft half-smile. He returns it, and reaches around Sara until he can find Joyce’s hand, wrapping his gloved fingers around hers.

She holds back tightly as the snow continues to fall around them.

_

Hopper knocks on the door hesitantly. It had been almost twenty minutes since Sara had darted into the bathroom with a panicked look on her face, and he’s starting to feel vaguely worried.

“Honey? Everything okay?” he asks, leaning against the door frame and waiting for a response.

What he gets is the door opened just enough for Sara to stick her head out so she can say: “I need Joyce.”

Hopper blinks, and lifts an eyebrow.

“There’s nothing I can do?” he asks, and Sara shakes her head vehemently. “Sara, it’s almost eight o’clock.”

“Dad do you remember the talk we had last year?” Sara responds with, and Hopper feels himself pale at just the mention of the puberty talk they’d had; Sara was growing up, and even though it was a conversation Diane would have been much more suited for, it fell to him now. It had resulted in both of them with red faces, and unable to look each other in the eye for at least two days. “Let’s avoid a repeat of that and just call Joyce, okay?”

“On it,” he answers, and relief blooms in Sara’s eyes. The bathroom door shuts and Hopper scrubs a hand down his face before he walks to the phone, easily punching in the Byers’ number and listening to the ringing until Joyce thankfully picks up. “Hey, Joyce, it’s me.”

“Hop? Is everything okay?” concern shades her voice, and he can’t help the little smile his lips quirk into at the sound of it.

“There’s a, uh...feminine crisis? Sara’s been locked in the bathroom for over twenty minutes and I have a pretty good idea why but it’s not really my field of expertise,” he cringes slightly at his words, but Joyce just gives a soft hum of understanding.

“I’ll be right up, Hop,” is all she says before the phone hangs up with a click. El is nearly asleep on the couch, arms around two stuffed animals and a movie playing on the television, a half-melted bowl of ice cream on the coffee table. Hopper softened at the sight, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and spreading it out over his youngest, bending to brush a kiss over her head.

The front door opens and shuts quietly, and Joyce appears with a bag slung over her shoulder and a soft look on her face at the sight of them.

“Hey,” she whispers, smiling at the way El tried valiantly to wake up at the sound of her voice, but was too far into dreamland to fully greet her before slipping back to sleep.

“Sara’s still in the bathroom,” Hopper tells her, and Joyce nods, fingers touching his shoulder gently before she disappeared down the hall. “Come on, kid. You’ll be more comfortable in bed than on this couch.”

_

“Sara?” Joyce knocks on the door softly, and a moment later it was opened, Sara’s panicked face flashing with relief at the sight of her.

“You came,” she says, letting Joyce into the bathroom.

“Of course I came, your dad said you needed me. What’s going on?”

Sara ducks her head, an embarrassed look on her face as she mumbles her response.

“I can’t figure out the...the tampon,” the teenager’s voice is barely above a whisper, and sympathy fills Joyce instantly. “I tried and it hurt too much.”

“Honey, is this your first time getting your period?” Joyce asks as she guides Sara over to sit on the lip of the tub with her. The blonde nods, and Joyce wraps an arm around her shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Okay. I brought a few things that might help.”

Setting her bag down, Joyce starts to dig through it, and pulls out the green-wrapped square first.

“I bet your dad got the tampons, right?” she asks, and Sara nods, looking unsure. “They’re hard to get used to, so I brought some sanitary pads over, and I can take you shopping tomorrow for some more of your own if you’d like.”

Sara nods vigorously, and Joyce smiles.

“The rest aren’t strictly necessary, but I know from experience they help,” she continues, and Sara peers over curiously. Out first comes a chocolate bar, and second a small heating pad. “Does your stomach hurt at all? Any cramps?”

“Um, a little,” Sara confesses, and Joyce holds the heating pad up.

“Turn this on low and lay it over your belly- it’ll help,” she instructs, and Sara nods.

“And the chocolate bar?” she asks, and Joyce leans closer, whispering conspiratorially.

“Chocolate just makes everything better, don’t you think?”

Sara grins, nodding, and Joyce presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll go get you a glass of water and some motrin for the cramps- if you can’t figure the pad out while I’m gone, let me know, okay?” she asks, and Sara nods.

“Thank you, Joyce,” Sara says when Joyce is at the door, and she offers her a tiny smile.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m here whenever you need me,” Joyce tells her, and Sara nods again, cheeks slightly pink. “Be right back.”

Joyce slips from the bathroom, chest warm and full as she heads for the kitchen, filling a glass with cold water before rifling through the cabinets until she found an unexpired bottle of ibuprofen. She gathers both in her hands and heads back to the bathroom, knocking. Sara’s “come in” is soft, and Joyce enters quietly.

“Is it...this much blood, every month?” Sara asks as she washes her hands, eyes wide as she looks over at Joyce. Hiding her smile, she nodded.

“Unfortunately yes,” she answers, and Sara groans as she takes the medicine from Joyce and swallows it.

“This sucks,” the teenager states, and Joyce lets out a laugh, smoothing her hand over Sara’s head.

“It does. Why don’t we go make some ice cream and snuggle on the couch with that heating pad for a little while?”

“You don’t have to go home?” Sara asks, and Joyce shakes her head.

“The boys are entertaining themselves with the Atari, so I am all yours,” she replies, and Sara beams.

“Dad rented The Way We Were, do you want to watch that with me?”

“I do like Robert Redford,” Joyce says by way of answer as they walk into the living room.

A bowl of rocky road each and not even halfway through the movie later, Sara is sound asleep against Joyce, soft snores rumbling against Joyce’s neck. Stroking some hair out of her face, Joyce smiled softly and let the little girl snuggle further into her. She looks up at the sound of footsteps, smile growing at the sight of Hopper.

“She’s out,” she whispers as he leans against the entryway, a soft smile curving his lips.

“Thanks, for doing this,” he says, and Joyce shakes her head, shooing away his words.

“I told her I was always here. I meant it,” she replies, smiling down at Sara’s sleeping face. “I can only imagine how hard it is for you, with two daughters and no partner for all this stuff.”

“About as hard as it must be with two boys,” one eyebrow lifts, and Joyce wrinkles her nose as she makes a soft noise of concession in her throat. “I do feel better- knowing she can talk to you about stuff that she maybe won’t come to me for. And, you know- I’m here too.”

Joyce tilts her head slightly, allowing her smile to soften as she looks at him, a warm glow filling her chest.

“Yeah. I do know,” she dips her head in a nod, keeping her voice quiet as Sara snuggles further into her. Hopper comes over, kneeling down and stroking a hand over Sara’s head.

“I’ll take her to bed- I know from experience you do not want to spend the night on this couch,” he tells her, and Joyce helps maneuver Sara until Hopper can lift her gently. Joyce’s mouth goes dry despite herself at the way he easily picked the teenager up, like she weighed nothing, and refused to allow her mind to wander to thoughts of him lifting her. “I’ll be right back, if you want to stay- finish the movie?”

Joyce is caught off guard by the question, mind still mulling over Hopper’s strength, and swallows before answering with an apologetic smile.

“I should probably go check on the boys- there’s no way they put themselves to bed without my supervision,” she says, pulling a half-smile from Hopper. “Rain check?”

He nods, blue eyes warm as she squeezes his arm before bending to gather her things.

“Night, Joyce,” he says as he opens the door for her, Sara held securely in the other.

“Goodnight, Hopper,” she murmurs in reply, slipping out the door and listening to it click locked behind her. She blew out a breath, pressing a cool hand to her suddenly overheated cheeks and leaning back against the door silently for a moment, collecting herself, before she headed towards the stairs back to her own apartment.

_

There’s a streak of soot near his temple when he unlocks the apartment door, and something hot clenches in Joyce’s chest as she looks up at him from where she’s making breakfast in the kitchen. The kids are still asleep; she’d let them stay up to watch some movie on television the night before- something sci-fi she hadn’t had any interest in, choosing instead to catch up on her paperback she’d renewed for the third time from the library in the hopes of finally getting past the second chapter.

“Hey,” she welcomes him softly, moving the finished eggs to a cool burner and checking on the bacon in the oven before meeting him in the middle at the table, where he’s sunken into the chair at the head of the wooden piece of furniture. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, her fingers are brushing the ash from his hairline, stroking through the thick, blonde hair tenderly.

His head leans against her hip, weary, and Joyce frowns.

“What happened?” her inquiry is soft, and one large hand comes up to twist in the fabric of her sleep shirt; she realizes then that he’s back earlier than usual, because she isn’t even dressed, standing braless in the kitchen in an old, ragged band shirt and flannel pants. Her cheeks momentarily flush before she realizes how tightly he’s clutching at her, and both hands lift to cup the back of his head, stroking gently as worry fills her, and overtakes the embarrassment. She gives him a minute, realizing his whole body is practically shaking with tension, and struggles to keep her own anxiety at bay as she runs soothing fingers over the back of his neck and along his shoulders.

“There was a warehouse fire over on 15th,” he finally tells her, voice hoarse, and Joyce nods, frown deepening. “It was...bad. Blaze had been going for awhile; lotsa structural damage. One of the guys...didn’t make it out.”

Hopper’s voice got soft, thickening as he finished, and Joyce felt her heart swell and break in her chest at the lost, broken expression his face settled into.

“Oh, Hop...I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her hands moving to cup his scruffy cheeks momentarily before she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. His arms lifted after a moment and tugged her against him fully in a hug that was awkward only for the angle in which she was standing; to save herself the back ache, Joyce climbed into his lap, and Hopper buried his face in her neck as she stroked his hair and allowed him the few tears he let escape against her skin.

When he’d calmed, Joyce pulled back, and brushed her fingertips along his brow bone, studying him silently.

“Why don’t you rest here today?” she suggests quietly, and when she sees him gearing up to protest, presses forward. “The girls are all excited about some reading event at the library that the boys haven’t stopped mentioning for days. They can all go together, and I only have a short morning shift today; I’ll be home a little after lunch. We can all go out this afternoon- do something together.”

His eyes search her face for a few long moments, and then his whole body softens as he nods, understanding filling the blue irises that settled on her. Joyce’s lips quirked into a smile, and she leaned forward, impulsively kissing his cheek. Heat flooded her at the brush of his morning stubble prickling her lips and cheeks, and her position in his lap suddenly hit her full force.

The oven time beeped, reminding her of the bacon still in the oven, and she delicately slid off of him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

The scent of the bacon leaving the oven seems to be enough to rouse the kids; as Joyce is plating a third batch of buttered toast and giving Hopper a glass of orange juice, four sets of feet trudge down the hall, rubbing at still-sleepy eyes. They all perk up at the sight of Hop at the table though, and El runs right to him, climbing into his lap.

“Hi,” she says, arms around his neck as she snuggles into him, not seeming to mind that he still smelled slightly smoky and settling her head on his shoulder. Hopper pressed a kiss to her head, squeezing her tiny body gently.

“Hey, kiddo. Sleep well?”

El nods, accepting the cup of juice from Joyce with a beaming grin.

“I wore my dinosaur pajamas. They’re my favorites,” she tells him matter-of-factly, and Hopper’s smile is tired, but genuine. Sara watches him carefully, seemingly aware that something is up, but doesn’t push him for once; just deposits a kiss on his cheek.

“You smell,” she informs him, faint teasing in her tone as she ticks up an eyebrow; Hopper mirrors the facial expression, and reaches over to ruffle her hair.

“That smell is your college tuition, so drink it in little lady,” he replies, and Joyce rolls her eyes as she settles between them with a cup of coffee. Everyone digs into their food, silence descending on the group aside from the clink of silverware on plates and the occasional request for more of something.

“This was great, Mom,” Jonathan tells her as he finishes his third slice of toast, and Joyce beams, face scrunching up as pink tints her cheeks. The rest of the group’s compliments follow the one from her eldest, and Sara slips in to hug her, head resting on her chest briefly before she helps her start to pick up.

“I’m gonna go take a quick shower and change,” Hopper’s chest rumbles against her back as she starts the dishes. Joyce nods, hands plunged in soapy water, and looks at him over her shoulder.

“You can take my room when you’re finished. I’ll change the sheets,” she tells him, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t go to any trouble,” he tells her, and Joyce bites her lip, eyebrows creasing together as she fights off a smile. She watches him walk away, and turns her attention back to the dishes as she works to ignore the odd, heated little ache suddenly growing in her belly.

It was just a nap in her bed, in sheets she’d slept on last night. It was _nothing_ ; they were _friends_. Hopper probably wasn’t even thinking about her like that. She had to stop this train of thought before it got her in trouble.

_

Warm hands sliding over his chest pull him from sleep, and he hums at the touch.

“Sleep well?” a soft voice murmurs in his ear, followed by a gentle kiss placed just behind his ear, just before the owner of the voice pressed the full length of their body against his back.

“Woulda been better if you’d been with me,” he rasps in reply, sleep still coating his throat, and he receives a chuckle in response.

“Well I had to do something with the children to get them out of the apartment,” Joyce says, this time depositing a kiss just below his jaw. Her hands continue to stroke over his chest, slipping down his torso with each pass, and Hopper takes the opportunity to roll over to face her. Hair falls into her eyes and he lifts a hand to brush it away, allowing his touch to train down her face until it lands on her neck.

She blinks languidly, purring at the touch and arching against him, a leg slipping over his hips to align them better, drawing a groan from him.

“The kids-” he starts, and Joyce shakes her head as her hips rise and fall again.

“It’s just us,” she interrupts, head tilting back as he pushed his own hips forward into hers, a moan getting caught in her throat. Hopper felt heat flush over him, his hand slipping around her back to pull her closer as she rocked against him once more. “Touch me, Hop.”

The words echo in his head, a groan building in his throat as heat pulses through him, making him ache. One hand slips around her torso, crawling up her torso, about to palm her breast, when-

Loud, electronic beeping forces his eyes truly open and he sits up as his heart beats frantically in his chest, trying to get his bearings. Light filters in under the edge of the curtains, and as Hopper blinks, he remembers falling asleep in Joyce’s bed after setting the alarm.

Reaching over to smack it off, Hopper feels the lingering heat from the dream remain behind, images of Joyce filtering through his head before he can stop them. He swallows a groan, pushing the covers back and ducking his head out the door, relief filling him at the still-silent apartment.

He locks the bathroom door behind him just in case.

_

Joyce is sorting through bills at the kitchen table when El comes to stand next to her, curious. Without stopping what she’s doing she allows the young girl to scramble up onto her lap, situating herself comfortably and leaning back into Joyce’s chest to peer curiously at the sheets of paper covering the wooden surface.

“What are you doing?” she asks, tilting her head as she looks up at Joyce, and Joyce laughs before pressing a kiss to El’s curly head.

“Boring adult stuff,” she answers, and El wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, those are pretty much my thoughts on the subject too.”

There’s a pause while El seems to ponder something, and Joyce lets her think while she finishes what she’s doing, leaving the bills in a stack to be dealt with later and the table clear.

“Can we make cookies?” she asks after a bit, and Joyce hums in answer, nodding her head.

“I don’t see why not. Any special occasion?” she asks as they move over to the kitchen counter, Joyce carrying a chair over for El to stand on.

“I think Sara needs them. She’s been sad,” El answers as Joyce gets down the ingredients for peanut butter cookies. Joyce frowned, concern welling in her chest.

“Did something happen?”

El shrugs, dipping a finger in the peanut butter and sucking it into her mouth.

“She had a math test and she said it was really hard. She’s scared she did bad,” the eight year old informs her, and Joyce’s shoulders soften in understanding.

“Well, I think cookies are the perfect way to cheer her up,” Joyce nudges El with her hip, grinning, and the brunette beamed up at her, peanut butter smeared around her lips. “But first, Chef El, you have to wash your hands- and your mouth.”

El giggled, but bent over the sink, turning the water on and rinsing her face before scrubbing her hands. Joyce followed suit, and then began showing El which ingredients to mix together first, letting her turn the mixer on and pour the dry ingredients in slowly.

A little flour flies out, covering the two of them, and Joyce carefully brushes it off El’s nose, drawing a laugh from her before she leaned forward and cleaned Joyce’s nose off with her own fingers. Joyce winkled her nose, causing El to mirror the expression.

“Okay, how about I make the balls of dough, and you can carefully flatten them with the fork, for the crisscross pattern?” Joyce suggests once the dough is finished and the oven is preheated, two baking sheets covering the kitchen table. El nods vigorously, moving to grab a fork out of the drawer, holding it at the ready once she climbs back onto the chair.

Joyce hums as she works, falling into the repetitive pattern easily as she and El work side by side. Fifteen minutes later they have rows of cookies ready to be baked, and Joyce holds her hand up for a high five, which El happily grants her.

“We can put these in the oven, and they should be ready by the time Sara and the boys get home,” Joyce tells her, sliding the first baking sheet into the oven and setting the timer. “Go wash your hands for me and then you can watch something on television while I clean up, okay?”

El nods, but before she bounds down the hall for the bathroom she barrels forward, wrapping her arms around Joyce’s waist and squeezing. She looks up at her, smile curling her lips and displaying the tooth she’d lost earlier in the week. “Thanks for baking with me.”

Joyce grinned, bending to kiss El’s head.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she tells her, brushing her cheek with gentle fingers. Joyce watched El scamper off down the hallway, her chest warm and filled with affection. A knock sounds on the door, and she moves to open it.

“Heya, Joyce,” Bob Newby stands in the doorway, lifting a hand in greeting. He lived upstairs, and was one of the nicest tenants in the building. He’d been helping Jonathan learn to use the new digital camera he’d been given for Christmas, and Joyce had cooked dinner for him one of the few nights Hopper and the girls had had other plans in thanks.

“Hey Bob. What can I do for you?” she asked, smiling.

“I think I left my serving plate here the other night,” he says, and Joyce’s eyes widen as she nods.

“Oh, you did! I washed it for you, come on in,” she replies, holding the door open wider and letting him in. She moved over to the counter, grabbing said plate and handing it to him. “Sorry, I meant to get this back to you but it’s been a busy week.”

“No worries, Joyce,” Bob tells her, face crinkling in a smile. “I’ve gotta get a move on- I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Well good luck, Bob,” Joyce touches his shoulder, smile gentle. “She’s a lucky lady.”

She leads him to the door, leaning against the doorframe as he leaves. He lifts a hand in goodbye, and she returns it. Feeling watched, she frowns, looking around- Hopper’s at the end of the hall, an odd expression on his face.

“Coming in?” she calls, gesturing to the apartment, and he shakes his head.

“Gotta take a shower. Send the girls back in a bit?” he asks, and she nods, tilting her head slightly.

“Is everything okay, Hop?”

“Just fine. Long day,” he answers, then offers her a half-smile. “See you later, Joyce.”

She watches him trudge towards the stairs, frown deepening. The timer beeps behind her, and she pulls herself from her thoughts.

She’d get it out of him at some point.

_

“You didn’t ask Joyce out,” his eldest’s tone is accusatory as he steps inside the apartment, and Hopper sighs.

“Sara, I’m not in the mood for this. I just got home,” he answers, trying to keep his voice level as he remembers the sight of Joyce watching Bob Newby leave her apartment a week ago, warm smile on her face. “Joyce and I are friends, nothing more. If someone else asked her out, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But why won’t you just ask her out yourself?!” Sara’s voice rose in pitch, and Hopper’s eyebrows contracted as he turned back to look at his daughter. She crossed her arms, breathing heavily as she glared at him, face paler than normal as she steadied herself by widening her stance. “You love her, and she loves you, and people who love each other should be together! That’s how all the books go!”

“Well, life isn’t a book, honey. Joyce is going out with someone else,” Hopper answers, frowning when Sara swayed slightly in place, like she couldn’t keep herself upright. “Sara, do you feel okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sara snapped, batting his hand away and swaying again before glaring at him even more fiercely. “She’s only going out with dumb 5C because you wouldn’t make a move!”

“Mr. Newby isn’t dumb, he owns a RadioShack, Sara,” Hopper tells her patiently, though something in him feels wrong at the sight of how white Sara’s lips look, set in her already pale and slightly-sweaty face. “Honey, you look like you’re going to pass out, why don’t we sit down and take your temperature-”

“But Joyce is the only person who’s ever loved me like Mom could and I just...I just-” Sara stops talking suddenly, seemingly paralyzed, and then looks up at him, eyes going wide and white and a little panicked. “Daddy, I don’t feel-”

She collapses before she can finish, and Hopper rushes forward to catch her just before her head cracks off the apartment floor.

“EL!” he roars, and his youngest races into the room, eyes widening at the sight she encounters. “We have to go to the hospital- now. Get your shoes on, get Sara’s shoes. Please.”

El nods, chocolate curls bouncing against her face as tears well in her eyes, and Hopper swallows hard as she moves to comply with what he’s asked of her. He moves Sara to the couch, stretching her out. She’s breathing, which is good, and her heart rate is good; she’s just passed out, and probably dehydrated.

El returns with her shoes on and her koala bear under one arm, and Sara’s slide-on sneakers in her other hand; Hopper takes them from her and pulls her into his side with the other, pressing a hard kiss to her head as he hugs her tightly. “Your sister is gonna be fine, okay? We’re gonna get her fixed up and she’ll be good as new in no time.”

“Promise?” El asks, voice soft, and Hopper swallows hard as he nods, lifting his hand with his last finger extended.

“Pinky promise.”

_

Joyce is doing the dishes when the phone rings; she wars with herself for two rings before she picks up, holding it to her ear.

“Byers residence,” she says, cradling the receiver between her ear and shoulder, finishing the last plate and placing it in the drying rack.

“Joyce.”

She straightens up slightly at Hopper’s voice; something’s wrong, she can tell from his strained tone, and she dries her hands off, adjusting the phone closer to her face.

“Hop? What’s wrong, where are you?” she can just make out the background sounds- some kind of beeping, and the dull roar of chaotic, overlapping noises.

“We’re, uh- we’re at the hospital. Sara…collapsed, and they’re keeping her for observation until they figure out what’s wrong,” his voice gets thick, and her stomach tightens, anxiety spiking in her chest. “She just woke up, and…she’s real sick, Joyce. Sara wants you here,” a pause, and then, thickly, “And I need you here.”

Her heart thumps in her chest, resonating against her ribs and thrumming throughout her body as she presses her palm against her throat. Emotions cascade through her, fighting for dominance, and she swallows thickly.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” is all she says to him, already running a checklist through her head of what she needed to grab before she abruptly hangs up, mind already ten steps ahead of her. She simply wanted to be there- wanted to see Sara, see El; see Hopper. “Boys! Get your shoes on, we have to go to the hospital!”

Two pairs of feet thunder down the hallway, and both Will and Jonathan look worried as they shove their feet into shoes and Will pulls a sweatshirt over his head. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Something’s wrong with Sara. They need us,” is all Joyce can think of to say, and that’s all it takes for Will to nod his head, and grab the blanket El had left last movie night from the couch.

“It’s always cold in hospitals, right?” he said, and Joyce’s lip trembles as she gathers her youngest son up, kissing the top of his head. Jonathan grabs a soft sweater of Sara’s that she perpetually left in their apartment, while Joyce wrapped herself in one of Hopper’s flannels- it smelled faintly of him, and as she grabbed the keys, she buried her face in the collar and inhaled deeply.

After a drive that she’s shocked she doesn’t get a ticket for, Joyce finds them a parking spot and gets them signed in as visitors- her stomach warms when neither of the boys argue when she says they’re family, and the nurse directs them to where Sara’s room is. On a chair outside is El, stuffed koala in her arms- at the sight of them she stands, colliding with Joyce as she opens her arms to gather the girl up.

“Hey, sweetie,” she whispers, holding the young girl tightly and rubbing her back before she pulls away, brushing the hair from El’s eyes. “Your dad’s inside with your sister?”

El nods, biting her lip, and Joyce leans forward, kissing her forehead.

“The boys are gonna stay out here with you while I go in, okay?” she says gently, and Will comes over, offering the blanket and a tiny half-smile with Jonathan a step behind. El nods, and the three settle together outside the room as Joyce straightens up and walks through the door, knocking her knuckles against the wood. Sara was tucked into the bed, blonde hair escaping her ponytail while Hop was in the chair by the window, shoulders clearly tense and face drawn as he presses his elbows into his knees and rests his chin on his knuckles.

At the sight of her Sara sat up straight and extended her arms, face scrunching up and tears falling as “ _Joyce_ ” left her mouth in a sob that damn near broke her heart. Joyce rushed over, carefully gathering her up into her arms around the IV line, one hand cupping the back of her head as the other rubbed her back, finding Hopper’s worried gaze over the teenager’s head and holding it as she soothed her.

“I’m here now, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” she murmured, letting Sara sob into her chest, her nose touching the top of her head briefly before she placed a kiss there. “It’s gonna be okay. Take some deep breaths for me, okay?”

Sara hiccupped, but finally started to calm, though she didn’t let Joyce out of her reach; Hopper grabbed a box of tissues for them, and Joyce wiped Sara’s face tenderly before letting her blow her nose. She went to stand with Hopper on the other side of the bed and Sara shook her head vehemently, tugging on the sleeve of her shirt until Joyce was practically on the bed with her.

“Honey, I don’t think that’s allowed,” Joyce started gently, stroking over her matted blonde hair, and Sara’s lip practically wobbled until Joyce relented, shoulders lowering. She shook her head, touching Sara’s cheek with her fingertips. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

She toed off her sneakers and climbed up onto the bed, letting Sara nestle into her side once they’d adjusted the medication and hydration lines; the teenager was still giving shuddering, half-sobbing breaths, clearly overwhelmed and overstimulated, and it doesn’t take much more than Joyce rubbing her back in a steady sweeping motion for her to fall into a light sleep. Hopper finally seemed to let out the breath he himself was holding, and Joyce beckoned him over to her side of the bed, taking his hand in her free one.

“I’m sorry to drag you out here, but she just- she kept asking for you and-” Hopper started to stumble over his words, and Joyce softened, pulling her hand from his only to touch his face, palm cupping his cheek. He leaned into the touch, drinking in the contact, and her heart stumbled in her chest.

“Of course I came. I love her, Hop,” she murmured, looking down at the sleeping teenager against her side before she lifted her eyes back up to him, stroking her thumb over the stubble on his cheek. “I love all of you.”

She felt his inhale, and watched the play of emotions over his face, unable to help the soft smile that overtook her face.

“Love?” he asks, voice hoarse, and she nods, smile growing as her thumb dropped to swipe gently over his lower lip.

“Yeah, dummy. I thought I’d been pretty clear about it, but apparently not,” she said, and his lips quirked up into a hint of a smile of their own at her reply. “I don’t let just anyone into my life, you know. Or my boys’ lives. You and your girls are…you’re our family, Jim.”

His thumb is soft as it brushes the tear that trails down her cheek, and she huffs out a soft laugh- it’s quickly swallowed by his lips finding hers and she sighs into the kiss, eyes sinking shut as warmth suffuses through her. The fingers of her free hand wrap around the wrist of the hand cupping her face, holding him to her; he tastes like stale coffee and tobacco, and his other hand strokes the loose hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as they part when air becomes a necessity.

“I’m in love with you,” Hopper says with a breathless sort of certainty, his blue eyes warm and safe as they search hers, fingers calloused but achingly gentle as they catalogue every angle and line of her face. “You love my girls as easily as your own boys, and I never…never thought I’d find anyone like that. At least not that would look at me twice.”

Joyce flattened her palm until she could curl her fingers through his, squeezing tightly.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered, kissing the back of his hand. “And no matter what happens, we will get Sara better, and we will be a family. Properly. I promise.”

He nods, swallowing as he squeezes his eyes shut before clearing his throat, pressing their foreheads together and holding her hand tightly. After a moment he pulls back, however, with his eyebrows knit together.

“What about 5C? Newby?” he asks, and Joyce scrunches her face up, tilting her head slightly.

“Bob? What about him?” she asks, and Hopper inspects her fingers, his next words more hesitant.

“Sara said s’mething about you…going out with him,” he finally spits out, and his head shoots up at the laugh Joyce doesn’t successfully smother.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry!” she soothes him, hand touching his cheek before it slides to touch his mouth with gentle fingertips. “I did go out with him. Once. But I just…I told him there was someone else, and he was very understanding. He’s been helping Jonathan with his new digital camera for that photography contest- that’s why he’s been over so much.”

Her eyes soften, thumb stroking over his cheekbone.

“You and your girls stole my heart a long time ago, Jim Hopper. No one else ever really stood a chance after that,” she murmurs and he takes the opportunity to lean forward, sealing their lips once more.

He pulled back and just looked at her for a long moment, before a spark of recognition lit up his eyes, and he leaned closer, plucking at the collar of her shirt. “Is this my shirt?”

Joyce looks down at herself, cheeks flushing self-consciously. “It was breezy outside.”

A smirk curled Hopper’s lips, and Joyce’s blush deepened under his attention.

“Oh, it’s more than the temperature outside and we both know it,” he teases, and Joyce rolls her eyes.

“It smells like you, alright? I like to wear it when you’re at work and the kids are asleep. Now will you leave it be?” she tells him, arching an eyebrow as she lifts her gaze back up to his. The way he’s looking at her fills her chest with heat and overwhelming affection, and she swallows against the sudden thickness in her throat.

“We’ve wasted so much time,” is all he manages to get out, and Joyce shakes her head vehemently.

“It wasn’t wasted. Look at what we made while the world was waiting for us to catch up,” she gestures to Sara, and then the kids on just the other side of the door. “We’re a family now, Hop. So what if we were a little slow to pick up on the romance.”

The corner of Hopper’s mouth lifted, and he bent forward until he could press his lips to her forehead.

“You’re gonna be smarter than me for the rest of our lives now, huh?” he asks, and Joyce laughs, leaning into his touch as Sara shifts closer to her, sighing in her sleep.

“Better get used to it, I guess.”

_

“Looks like Mom and the rest of the gang finally made it in,” everyone in the room looks up at the doctor as he enters the room, smiling at the group of them before he glances back down at his clipboard, and Joyce opens her mouth to correct him when Sara speaks up first.

“Can she come with me? To the MRI?” Sara’s grip on Joyce’s hand tightens noticeably, and Joyce smooths a hand over her head as Hopper lets El burrow into his side while Will holds one of her hands, Jonathan hovering just beside them.

“Of course she can,” the nurse that had come over to check Sara’s IV lines assures her, smiling at the two of them. “Dad and your siblings will have to stay here though, the technician’s room will only fit one.”

“Hop…” Joyce starts, and he shakes his head, leaning over to grip her wrist gently.

“Go,” he says softly, lips quirking. “I’ll take the kids to get some food while we wait.”

Joyce searches his face for a moment as she bites her lip before she nods, releasing the breath she was holding and squeezing Sara’s hand, bending to kiss the top of her head. 

“I’m going to give you a little medicine now, and you should feel a little sleepy by the time we get down to the machine, okay Sara?” the nurse says as she pulls a vial and syringe out of her pocket. Sara nods warily, burrowing into Joyce’s side, and Joyce rubs her arm soothingly. “It’s just a precautionary dose of benadryl, in case she has a reaction to the dye. It’ll help with the noise of the MRI too, since she’ll be pretty sleepy once it kicks in.”

Joyce and Hopper both nod, letting out twin breaths, and Joyce carefully untangles herself from Sara with a reassuring squeeze so she can move over to the other kids.

“You guys are gonna behave and listen, right?” she lifts an eyebrow, Mom voice slipping out as she looks between Jonathan, Will, and El, and all three kids nod, little smiles of amusement slipping onto their faces. “Okay. Hugs, please.”

Joyce straightens from her kneeling position and opens her arms, and all three children instantly move into her embrace; each of her boys ends up under an arm while El nestles right in the middle with her head under Joyce’s chin, and she squeezes them all tightly, swallowing hard. Dropping kisses on all of their heads, she lets them go, and turns to Hopper as a technician comes and helps Sara into a wheelchair to bring her to the radiology department for the scan.

“It’s going to be fine,” she murmurs in what she hopes is a reassuring voice, placing a palm over the center of Hopper’s chest and pressing gently. He nods, jaw tight, and cups her hip in his hand before he bends to press his lips to her temple. Joyce wants to reach up to guide his mouth to hers, but the kids deserve a proper conversation from the two of them before they’re introduced to that level of public affection, so Joyce merely lifts a hand and touches his cheek briefly before she steps away to follow the technician and Sara down the hall, sparing a glance over her shoulder at Hopper and the other kids before she steps through the doorway.

The sight of the four of them together warms the hollow of her chest and the pit of her stomach better than the puff of a cigarette or any cup of coffee ever had, and as Sara twines their fingers together, Joyce knows they’ll weather this storm, whatever it throws at them.

They were a _family._

_

“I don’t want Mrs. Wheeler to pick us up. We want to stay with Sara,” Jonathan tells her stubbornly, arms folded as he sits on the end of the teenager’s bed. “If you’re staying, we’re staying.”

“Don’t you want to sleep in your own bed tonight? Karen said she’d bring Mike with her, honey,” Joyce looked at Will, but her youngest son shook his head.

“We’re staying, Mom. We can’t leave El and Sara. It’s like you said- they’re our family,” he reminds her, and she can’t help the tired smile that tugs at her lips at his words. She runs a hand over his hair before she bends down, kissing the top of his head before doing the same to Jonathan, resting her head against her eldest son’s.

“My boys,” she murmurs, a proud edge to her voice that’s almost watery. “Okay. You can stay. But you have to promise you’ll try to sleep a little, okay?”

Both Jonathan and Will nod, and Joyce straightens, looking towards the door at the sound of footsteps. Sara reenters in a wheelchair being pushed by a different technician, Hopper and El following close behind.

Once Sara is back in bed, El curls herself up on one of her sister’s sides, and Will and Jonathan settle themselves by her feet as Jonathan pulls out a deck of cards. Hopper helps them situate the bedside table so they have a stable surface to play on, and the kids lose themselves in a game of Go Fish as a doctor pulls the adults into the hall to talk.

“Tell me all these tests have told you something, Doc,” the exhaustion is clear in Hopper’s voice, and Joyce allows her fingers to curl around his, squeezing gently as she stands by his side.

“They have told us something, Mr. Hopper, but unfortunately I don’t think it’s the answer you’ll want to hear,” the doctor answers, and Hopper’s eyes narrow at the shorter man. “The MRI and CAT scan were inconclusive, but your daughter’s white blood cell counts are still through the roof. We’ve got her on a broad spectrum antibiotic, but it won’t do much of anything if she’s got something serious going on.”

“How do you figure out if she’s got something serious going on?” Joyce asks, feeling Hopper tense beside her, worry of her own pooling in her chest.

“We’ll have to do a bone marrow aspiration of her left leg. The area will be numbed, but she will have to be awake for the procedure. It will tell us if her blood cell production is healthy, or if there’s something of a larger scale happening,” the doctor answers, and Joyce nods, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

“Will that be done today?”

“Tomorrow morning. Her testing is done for the day. We’ll hydrate her and keep the antibiotics going for the night, and see where she is in the morning,” the doctor places Sara’s chart in the box by her door, and claps Hopper’s upper arm. “The good news is, we caught this before it got serious. I have full confidence we’ll have your daughter out of here in a few days, good as new.”

Hopper exhales, nodding.

“Thanks, Doc,” he says, and the doctor nods, offering them both a smile before he heads off towards the nurses’ station. Joyce studied Hopper’s face, lifting a hand to cup his cheek gently, thumb brushing along the bone.

He leaned into the touch, turning his face so he can brush his lips over the center of her palm.

“What can I do?” she asks softly, and Hopper shakes his head, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close.

“You’re here. That’s all I need,” he murmurs into her hair, pressing a kiss to the skin just behind her ear and inhaling deeply.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” she says, and Hopper simply holds her tighter in response.

_

“I knew it,” Joyce wakes to Sara’s triumphant voice, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. It takes a moment to realize her pillow had actually been Hopper, and that Sara’s statement had been directed at them.

“Knew what, sweetheart?” she asks, letting out a yawn and stretching out the crick in her back.

“You and Dad do love each other,” Sara replies smugly, and Joyce lifts an eyebrow.

“You’re feisty for 7 am. Do you feel any better?” Joyce avoids the question, unsure of how Hopper wanted her to answer just yet. Sara shrugs.

“I guess. I still have to do that aspiration thing,” Joyce can tell that the teenager is putting on a brave face, and she stands carefully, being sure not to wake Hopper, and moves to sit on the edge of Sara’s bed.

“I know it sounds scary,” Joyce says as she strokes her hand over Sara’s hair and Sara bites her lip, nodding half-heartedly. “But if it helps the doctors figure out how to make you better, it’ll be worth it, right?”

“I just want to go home,” Sara confessed softly, hanging her head against Joyce’s palm, and Joyce frowned before she leaned in to kiss her head.

“I know you do, honey. The sooner the doctors figure out what’s making you sick, the sooner we can all go home.”

“And you’ll be there? Even if you’re going out with 5C- I mean Mr. Newby?” Sara asks, eyes widen, and Joyce shakes her head slightly.

“Honey, I’m not going out with Mr. Newby. He’s just a friend,” Joyce tells her, and Sara’s eyebrows furrow.

“Isn’t my dad just a friend too?” she asks, and Joyce is shaking her head before the whole question is even out.

“The three of you are our family. You’re stuck with us,” she assures the blonde teenager, and some relief blossoms in her blue eyes.

“Hopefully for a long, long time,” it’s Hopper’s voice that speaks up next, and they both turn to look at him.

“Are you finally gonna ask her out then, Dad?” Sara asks, looking between the two of them, and Joyce rolls her eyes.

“Maybe I might ask him out. Have you considered that? It’s the 70s. Women can do that,” she says, and Sara giggles. “In fact- Hopper, do you want to get dinner sometime?”

Hopper lifts an eyebrow, meeting her gaze, and then chuckles softly.

“How about Enzos? 7pm? Next Friday?” he suggests, and Joyce nods definitively.

“It’s a date,” she replies, and then turns to Sara, who’s watching the two of them with a big grin. “How was that?”

“ _Finally,_ ” is all she says dramatically, and both adults stifle snorts of laughter as she falls back against the pillows.

_

By the time darkness falls outside the hospital that night, the doctors finally have an answer for Hopper and Joyce about Sara’s condition.

“It looks like she has an incredibly strong viral infection- we’ve got a targeted treatment plan that should get her back to 100% in no time. I suspect she’ll be ready to be released in a couple of days,” the doctor tells them, and they both let out twin sighs of relief. “We’re starting the first dose of antibiotics now, and there should be some improvement in her white blood cell count within the next 24 hours.”

“Thanks Doc,” Hopper says gratefully, shaking his hand.

“Of course. Your family is a delight, sir,” the doctor says, and Hopper looks over his shoulder at the four kids playing cards on Sara’s bed.

“Yeah, they are,” is all he says, heart full, and the doctor claps his shoulder once before he leaves him be. He looks at Joyce, unable to form words; her smile is small and soft, and she squeezes his fingers in hers, understanding plain in her face.

Sara’s voice asking them to join their game pulls them back into the room, and El climbs into Joyce’s lap without prompting once she’s settled in a chair beside Sara’s bed. Will leans against Hopper, tired from a night without much sleep, and Joyce watches with affection blooming in her chest.

A nurse comes in and hangs two separate bags, connecting them to Sara’s IV and checking her temperature.

“So who’s winning?” she asks, looking at the group and smiling.

“Jonathan. He’s really good at Go Fish,” Sara tells her, face serious. “If they had it in the Olympics, he’d qualify for the team.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, the beginnings of a grin curving his lips.

“You’d win if we were playing Uno,” he counters, and Sara shrugs modestly.

“I think we have Uno, actually- I could bring it in, if you’re getting sick of Go Fish,” the nurse tells them, and all the kids nod excitedly. “I’ll be right back.”

She squeezes Sara’s shoulder before she leaves, and Joyce stifles a yawn against her hand, resting her head against El’s as the young girl shifted to settle herself under Joyce’s chin.

“Go home and sleep,” Sara’s voice is soft, and she reaches over to grasp Joyce’s hand in hers.

“Oh, no honey I don’t want to leave you,” Joyce starts, and Sara shakes her head.

“Dad said I’ll be home in no time, you aren’t leaving me. And I know you’ll be back here first thing tomorrow morning anyway,” there’s teasing in the teenager’s eyes, and Joyce softened. “You can bring him some coffee that isn’t from the cafeteria.”

Hopper snorts out a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“Kid’s got a point, Joyce,” he says, and Joyce lifts an eyebrow, amusement creasing her features. “It’ll be good for El to get a night’s sleep outside the hospital.”

“If you’re sure,” she replies, and both Hopper and Sara nod.

“Will you bring my blue blanket when you come back tomorrow?” Sara asks, and Joyce nods, leaning forward until she can kiss her forehead.

“You got it sweetie. Any other requests?”

Sara shakes her head at first, but then after a moment she sits forward slightly, face lighting up.

“Can you bring pancakes? From the diner?” she asks, and Joyce’s face creases into a smile.

“I think that can be arranged,” she answers, then motions to the other kids. “Okay, guys, say your goodbyes. We’ll be back in the morning.”

El immediately climbs up onto the bed, cuddling into Sara, while Will wraps his arms around Hopper. Joyce moves over to them, stroking a hand over Will’s head and meeting Hopper’s gaze.

“Don’t worry about us. Get some rest,” Hopper murmurs as he lifted a hand to touch her face gently. Joyce nodded, then bent slightly to kiss him softly, fingers dragging through his beard before she straightened back up.

The drive home is quiet, the kids all settled together in the backseat and Joyce flipping through radio stations as she drove.

“Are you guys hungry?” Joyce asks as she unlocks the apartment door, the kids shuffling through before she follows, re-locking it behind her.

“Not really,” Jonathan answers with a shake of his head, Will and El joining him soon after.

“Okay. El, I have some pajamas I washed the other day, so you’ll be comfortable,” Joyce tells her, moving to the laundry basket still sitting on the kitchen table and pulling out the dinosaur pjs for El. The tiny brunette hugged her waist before disappearing down the hall to the bathroom, the boys following close behind for their own bedroom.

Joyce’s footsteps are slower, taking her hair down from the ponytail it was in and rubbing at the back of her neck, stiff from the night before. In her bedroom she changed into a holey pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, pulling the covers down on her bed and taking the throw pillows off, setting them aside.

“Joyce?” she looks up from taking her jewelry off at the tiny voice, finding El lingering just inside the doorway, her koala in her arms. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Joyce softened, beckoning El over and wrapping an arm around her. “Of course you can, sweetie. Let’s get comfortable.”

El crawls in first, settling under the covers as Joyce crawls in beside her, allowing El to burrow into her side. Joyce is about to reach over and turn off the light when she hears the sound of footsteps in the hall, and waits until both Jonathan and Will appear in the doorway.

“Come on in, boys,” she says as she lifts the covers, patting the empty spot beside her on the bed. Will settles right up against her with Jonathan on his other side, and once everyone was comfortable, Jonathan turned off the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness.

El and Will snuggled closer, settling against her chest, and Joyce allowed her body to relax. Before long, she was lulled by the sound of slow breathing and warm bodies snuggled against her, pushing her over the edge into the blackness of sleep.

_

“Are you sure you feel up to this?” Hopper asks for the fifth time, and Sara rolls her eyes.

“Dad, it’s El, Will and Jonathan, and for like four hours. Relax,” she tells him, putting another magazine into her backpack and zipping it. “That shirt is obnoxious, by the way.”

Hopper looks down at the pink and green patterned shirt he had on, and looked up with a half-smile.

“I like it. Is your sister ready?” he asks, and El walks down the hall carrying her own bag.

“Ready,” El says, beaming, and Hopper ruffled her hair gently.

After grabbing his keys and wallet, Hopper shepherds the girls out the door and down the stairs to Joyce’s. Sara knocks on the door with an eye roll at Hopper’s insistence.

“Dad, we have a key,” she says, and Hopper shakes his head.

“This is a date. We’re not barging through the door like we usually do,” he tells her, and Sara sighs, but with amusement in her expression.

Will opens the door, wrinkling his nose in a perfect echo of Joyce.

“Why didn’t you use your key?” he asks, letting them in, and Hopper shakes his head.

“He’s being _romantic_ ,” El emphasizes the last word, sticking her tongue out slightly before she set her bag on the couch. The sound of heels clicking down the hall spike Hopper’s heart rate, and his heart climbs to his throat once Joyce steps into the room.

The dress is long-sleeved, a black top that flowed seamlessly into a navy blue skirt and showed off her collarbones. Her hair is loose, floating around her shoulders in soft waves, and Hopper has to fight to keep his jaw from dropping.

“Joyce you look so pretty!” Sara’s the first to speak, coming over and softly touching the ends of Joyce’s hair.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Joyce smiled, though her eyes didn’t leave Hopper’s as she spoke. “I left money for pizza, it should be here in about half an hour.”

A chorus of thank yous rises from the group, and Joyce grabs her purse, reaching around Hopper in the process and smirking up at him.

“You look nice,” she tells him, plucking at one of the buttons on his shirt. “New shirt?”

“All for you,” he replies, pulling a full-blown grin from her. “Behave yourselves, alright?”

“Go focus on your date, Dad. Jonathan and I got this,” Sara tells him, waving them towards the door. “Forget you have kids for a few hours. Have fun.”

Hopper snorts, rolling his eyes as his hand fell to Joyce’s lower back, opening the door with his free one. Joyce locks in behind them, then turns to look at him, biting her lower lip. Hopper trailed a finger along one exposed collarbone, pulling a shiver from her.

“I _really_ like this dress,” he tells her, voice hoarse, and Joyce stepped closer until their torsos brushed.

“Well good. I bought it just for you,” she murmurs, palms skimming up his chest until she can fix his collar. “So...dinner?”

Hopper nods, lips quirking upwards into a smile as he offered his crooked arm; Joyce slid her hand around his elbow, squeezing gently.

“I hate these things, so walk slow,” she tells him, and Hopper hugs her arm tighter against him.

“Don’t worry- I won’t let you fall.”

_

“This is wonderful, and I really am having a nice time,” Joyce lays her hand over his after they finished eating and squeezes for emphasis, a half-smile on her lips.

“But you miss the kids?” Hopper finishes her half-statement, and Joyce’s shoulder loosen as she lets out a soft laugh, nodding.

“I do. I know it’s only been a few hours, but…” she trails off, but Hopper nods, squeezing her hand.

“What do you say we forget dessert here, go pick the kids up, and get some ice cream?” he suggests, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a soft smile on Joyce’s face as she leans across the table until she can kiss him.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. You’re sure it won’t ruin the date?” she asks, and Hopper shakes his head, lips quirking up into a half-grin.

“If it wasn’t for the kids we might not even be here, so I think we owe it to them to buy them ice cream,” he replies, and Joyce lets out a laugh, nose scrunching.

“I can’t argue with that logic.”

After Hopper pays the bill they leave the restaurant, Joyce’s fingers slipping into his as they walk through the cool evening air to the truck. Before he can open her door for her, Joyce has her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a long, slow kiss. He catches on quickly, and in a moment her back is against the car door as he presses her against it, one hand against her neck and the other warm through the fabric of her dress against her hip.

They part when air is necessary, sharing the same oxygen as he smirks down at her.

“Thank you for the best first date I've ever had,” she murmurs, watching the way his eyes dipped to focus on her mouth.

“You think my first date skills are good, wait until you see my third date game,” he replies, and Joyce feels heat slice through her like a knife, settling in her lower belly. She can’t help the way she shivers, pressing herself against him fully.

“Can’t wait,” is all she manages to get out before Hopper is kissing her against, licking into her mouth and skimming the hand at her waist up to settle just below the line of her bra. Part of her ached to let him continue, but the responsible part of her remembered they were still in the parking lot, and that they had children to get back to. She pulls back, feeling him trail his mouth over her jaw until he can bite gently at her neck, and Joyce swallows down a moan. “Hop. Kids. Ice cream.”

“Right. The plan,” he answers breathlessly, though he doesn’t move his hands. Joyce laughs slightly, nudging at him gently. With an exaggerated groan he moves away, opening the passenger door for her before moving to the driver side, starting it up. Joyce slides closer to him on the seat, hand settled midway up his thigh.

“Just makes you look forward to the next kid-free night, huh?” she teases, stroking her fingers lightly, and his response is tight.

“Playing with fire, that’s what you’re doing.”

Joyce smirks, flicking on the radio.

_

“Chief wants to see you, Cap,” is the first thing Callahan tells Hopper when he walks into the locker room, and Hopper frowns but nods, setting his bag down and heading out to the office area. LaVorgna’s door is open, and Hopper raps his knuckles against the wood as he stands in the doorway.

“You’re looking for me?” he asks, and the Chief nods, motioning for Hopper to close the door and take a seat.

“We talked a few months ago about a possible promotion,” he starts, and Hopper nods, thinking back to just after the family weekend last year when LaVorgna had pulled him into his office before his shift started. “There’s a position opening up at the firehouse in the Syosset district for Chief. I think you’d be a good fit there, and you’re more than ready to head your own house.”

Hopper blinks, taking in the other man’s words slowly.

“Hasn’t Keegan been here longer?” he asks, and LaVorgna waves a hand.

“The district chief wants you, Hopper,” he says, and Hopper swallows.

“I’ll have to talk it over with Joyce- that’s a big move, and we’ve got kids in school,” he starts, and the older man nods.

“Understandable. City wants an answer by Thursday so they can start the transition,” he tells him, and Hopper nods, standing. “For what it’s worth, I think this is the perfect opportunity for you, Hopper. You’re Chief material.”

“Thank you, sir,” he says, shaking LaVorgna’s hand before leaving the office, head already full of thoughts.

For once he’s thankful for a quiet shift, because he spends most of it working out the logistics of moving, and whether or not it would even be something Joyce wanted. For as long as they’d known each other, they’d really only been officially together for a little over two months- as right as being with her felt, that was fast by any standards.

He feels strangely wired on the drive home, and finds Joyce to be the only one up when he turns the key in the lock to his front door.

“Hey,” she says warmly, setting her coffee mug down and standing, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen and lifting onto her toes to kiss him hello. Hopper wraps an arm around her waist, holding her to him and deepening the kiss, tasting the coffee on her tongue before they parted. “There are four kids who could wake up at any moment just down the hall, you know.”

“Oh, so I shouldn’t do this?” he asks, sliding a hand down to grab her ass, pulling a gasp from her lips before she smacked at his shoulder.

“You’re in a good mood,” she observes, pouring him a cup of coffee as he pulls off his boots, leaving them by the front door.

“I got some good news from work,” he says, and interest lights up her face as she settles beside him at the kitchen table. “They want promote me to chief and give me my own firehouse.”

“Oh, Hop, that’s wonderful!” Joyce exclaims, reading over the squeeze his forearm. He nods, taking a drink of his coffee.

“Only thing is...it’s in the Syosset district,” he says, and Joyce’s shoulders fall slightly.

“That’s forty minutes away, Hop,” she says, and he nods. “We’ll never see you.”

“Unless you moved with me,” he says, and Joyce’s eyes widen slightly as she sits back. “I know it’s fast, but I also know the girls and I can’t live without you or the boys. I love you, and I want to be with you all the time.”

Joyce tilts her head slightly, contemplating him with a half-smile on her lips.

“It isn’t too fast. Let’s be honest- we’ve been a family a lot longer than the brief time we’ve been together,” she replies, leaning forward to thread her fingers through his. “There are some logistics we’ll have to work out, like my job, but I would love to move with you, Jim Hopper.”

Hopper’s face splits into a grin, and he leans forward to kiss her soundly, both hands lifting to cup her cheeks. Joyce giggled against his mouth, eyes shining when they part, and she reaches up to smooth his hair out of his face.

“I guess that means we’re going house hunting,” he says, and from behind him he hears Sara’s voice.

“House hunting? Why?” she asks, plopping down in the chair next to Joyce and resting her head on her shoulder.

“I’m getting a pretty big promotion,” Hopper tells her, and a grin splits his eldest daughter’s face.

“Congrats, Dad,” she says, and Hopper leans over to ruffle her hair with light fingers.

“Thanks, kid. It’s gonna mean moving, though,” he says, and Sara looks at Joyce worriedly.

“We can’t leave, Dad,” she starts, panic in her voice, and Joyce is the one to reassure her.

“We’re coming with you, sweetheart,” she tells her, stroking hair out of the blonde’s face and tucking it behind her ear. “I wouldn’t let you go without a fight, you know that.”

“So you’ll be with us all the time?” Sara asks, and Joyce nods, smile softening.

“You’re going to get sick of me,” she says, and Sara shakes her head, nestling herself back into Joyce’s embrace.

“I could never get sick of you. You’re like my mom,” the teenager says easily, and Joyce looks up at Hopper to gauge his reaction, finding him looking at the two of them softly. His smile is warm, and he nods slightly, letting her know it was okay.

“Well I couldn’t have asked for a better daughter, could I?” Joyce murmurs, kissing Sara’s forehead. “I’m so lucky to have you and El now.”

“I think we’re the lucky ones,” Sara disagrees, and Joyce laughs. “Well, actually, Dad’s the luckiest one if we’re being honest.”

“Why do you say that?” Hopper asks, though he doesn’t disagree with her. Sara lifts an eyebrow at him.

“Joyce is a knockout, Dad,” she answers, tone serious, and Joyce rolls her eyes fondly.

“It is 7:30 in the morning, Sara,” she says, nudging the girl in the arms. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes, please,” Sara says, and as if summoned, the other three kids emerge from the hallway, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Hopper watches as Joyce moves around the kitchen comfortably, sitting back and watching the kids slowly wake up fully while she cooks. Pleasant warmth suffuses through his chest at the thought that soon, they’d have this every morning; the concept of home now meaning coming home _to her._

He’s pulled from his daydream by warm hands on his shoulders, and Joyce plants a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Go lie down, honey. I’ll join you in a little bit, okay?” she murmurs, and Hopper nods, blinking tiredly at the sudden exhaustion in his bones. He murmurs to the kids, dropping a kiss to each of their heads before trudging down the hallway. He strips to his boxers and climbs under the covers, burying his nose in the one that still smelled faintly of Joyce’s shampoo.

He drifts, not quite asleep and not quite awake, until he feels the bed dip and a warm presence beside him. Pulling Joyce into his arms, he nuzzles into her hair, sighing happily.

“Love you,” he sighs sleepily and Joyce holds him tighter, humming softly.

“I love you too. And I can’t wait to find our home together,” she murmurs, her words soft against his ear. “Thank you for reminding my heart what it felt like to feel safe.”

The last words are whispered even softer, and the black blanket of sleep is too heavy for him to push off enough to reply, so he merely thinks the words he’ll tell her when he wakes up before he succumbs to slumber.

_Thank you for waking my heart back up after all the years I locked it away. I think it must have been waiting for you all along._

_You were worth all the waiting._


End file.
